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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Yes," replied Geary, hesitating, "I I did want to buy it of you once; well, for that matter I do now. But you know how it is with me." "I might as well sell it to you as to any one else," returned Vandover. "Well, now, it's like this, Van," said Geary. "I know that block is worth nine thousand dollars; I won't deceive you. But I can only give you eight thousand for it.
During the next two weeks Vandover was plunged into the affairs of business for the first time in his life. It interested and amused him, and he felt a certain self-importance in handling large sums of money, and in figuring interest, rents, and percentages. Three days after his interview with Mr.
There was nothing on his stomach to throw up, and now at length the hunger in him raged like a wolf. Vandover was in veritable torment. He could not keep his thoughts away from the money in his pocket, a nickel and two dimes. He could eat if he wanted to, could satisfy this incessant craving. At every moment the temptation grew stronger. Why should he wait until morning?
Vandover drew his rug about him and went up to the main deck, dragging his shoelaces after him. The wind was stronger here, but he bent his head against it and went on toward the smoking-room, for the idea had occurred to him that he could shut himself in there and pass the rest of the night upon the cushions; anything was better than returning to the cabin downstairs.
They were looking over their future home again; evidently they lived close by. Suddenly the burnisher's wife came out upon the front steps, looking down into the little garden, calling for Vandover. She was not pretty; she had a nose like a man and her chin was broad. "Say, there," she called to Vandover, "do you mean to say that you've finished inside here?"
While he stood there he saw Vandover come out upon the sidewalk from the door of the great office building. Geary watched him, very interested.
In a few moments he had himself in hand again, cool and self-collected, resolved not to act like a fool before the others, but to help them if he could. Near to him a Salvation Army lassie was down upon her knees trying to cord up a huge bundle wrapped in sail-cloth. "Here," exclaimed Vandover coming up to her, "let me help. I'll tie this for you you put this on."
He turned about resolutely, and walked slowly away from her. The girl looked after him a moment, surprised, and then called out: "Oh, Mr. Vandover!" Vandover paused a moment, looking back. "Where are you going?" she went on. "Didn't you see me here? Don't you want to come and talk to me?" "No," answered Vandover, smiling good-humouredly, trying to be as polite as was possible. "No, I don't."
He rose to his feet exclaiming to himself, "But she was so sure she knew she was going to be saved," then suddenly fell silent again, gazing wonderingly at the body, disturbed, very thoughtful. When Vandover finally reached the lifeboat, he found a great crowd gathered there; three people were already in the boat itself.
He was an inspiration to Vandover, who began to be ashamed of having yielded to the first selfish instinct of preservation. Just as the boatswain's mate was offering his flask to the woman whom Vandover had heard calling for "August," the Mazatlan lurched heavily once or twice, and then slowly listed to the port side, going over farther and farther every instant.
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