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Updated: June 11, 2025
He gave a low whistle of astonishment and went over to her. "Say, Dora, why the grouch?" he asked. For a moment she disdained to answer and glared at him witheringly. Then she blurted out, "You're throwing me down for that baby face with the money!" Paul gave a short laugh and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be silly," he laughed. "She'll be our meal-ticket."
Would she really have the face to publish abroad the pregnant fact that Ned Stillman was providing what she had been pleased to designate as a meal-ticket for a young woman in difficulty? For himself he cared little, except that he always shrank instinctively from appearing ridiculous.
"You're the Fat, ain't you? The one that's keeping him?" "What what " "So you're the meal-ticket! Say, leave it to Will, Leave it to that boy not to get lost in this world. Ain't it like him to the T to pick a good-natured Fat?"
Anyways, I'm " "Don't I always just give you pot luck?" "Yes, but you'll think afterwhile that I got you mixed up with my meal-ticket." A sensitive seepage of blood rushed over Madam Moores's nervous face, stinging it. "Of course, if you won't want to come!" "Don't want to come! A fellow that's never had a snap like your cozy corner in his life "
"Oh, my dear man, she isn't to know, but she will, ultimately. You don't suppose the secret of a woman's meal-ticket is hidden very long, do you? And, besides, you couldn't offer her enough to live on. That would be absurd on the very face of it." "Oh, well, I could offer her enough to help out a bit, anyway, and half a loaf you know...."
If he met Any One who had started with him a few Years before, and who used to Stake him to a Meal-Ticket now and then, or let him have a Scarf-Pin when he had to go out and make a Front, he could not appear to remember the Man's Name or tell where he had seen him before.
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