。， "I have three cents left. These men must be put to bed somehow.There are"--counting--"one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve men. Nine cents more will putthe next man to bed; give him a good, comfortable bed for thenight. I go right along and look after that myself. Who willgive me nine cents?"
"The world is always struggling to express itself," he went on."Most people are not capable of voicing their feelings. Theydepend upon others. That is what genius is for. One manexpresses their desires for them in music; another one in poetry;another one in a play. Sometimes nature does it in a face--itmakes the face representative of all desire. That's what hashappened in your case."。， He approached that entrance and went in.
。， With the stolidity and indifference of despair, however, heendured it all, sleeping in an attic at the roof of the house,eating what the cook gave him, accepting a few dollars a week,which he tried to save. His constitution was in no shape toendure.
The hotel man was slightly interested in this story. He couldhardly tell what to do with such a figure, and yet Hurstwood'searnestness made him wish to do something.。， "Eat," he mumbled. "That's right, eat. Nobody else wants any."