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The Flopper, on the inside of the sidewalk, in the shadow of the buildings, gave as little as he got, though his eyes were fastened sharply, now ahead, now, screwing around his body to look behind him, on the faces of the pedestrians as they passed; or, rather, he appeared to look through and beyond those in his immediate vicinity to the ones that followed in his rear from further down the street, or approached him from the next corner.
"Of course," said Madison again complacently. "Say," said the Flopper, "say, I'm goin' dippy. Another one de same as de kid, Doc?" "Same as the kid, Flopper faith." "Swipe me!" said the Flopper helplessly. By the wheel-chair, Mrs. Thornton, her husband and Doc Madison were in earnest conversation and around them was a mass of people.
Mabbe you think I'm nutty too, because I know I'm goin' to be cured but it don't hurt you none to have me think so, does it? Mabbe someday you might like to hope a little yerself, an' if " "'Board! All aboard!" the conductor's voice boomed down the platform. The young woman leaned forward in her chair toward the Flopper. "I know what it is to hope," she said softly.
"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper tell us about it." "I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell an' wot he left de cop pinched. Dat's all" the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that burned within him.
Say, Helena, say, do youse believe in love in in de real t'ing?" Helena's apathy was gone now a flush dyed her cheeks. She was not startled at what the Flopper had said she had seen it coming, subconsciously, vaguely, mistily, for days now, only she had been immersed in herself she was not startled, and yet, in a way, she was. The end! She too had been thinking about that and she too did not know.
Pale Face Harry, with pointed forefinger, gingerly and facetiously laid the coins out in a row on the table. "And you the king of Floppers!" he murmured softly. "It's a wonder you didn't let the Salvation Army get the rest away from you on the way along!" Helena laughed but the Flopper didn't. He stepped close to Pale Face Harry, and shoved his face within an inch of the other's.
Helena looked up as the Flopper returned. Upon the Flopper's face was a curious expression not one that in the days gone by had been habitual it seemed to mingle a diffidence, a kindly solicitude and a sort of anxious responsibility. "It's Thornton askin' fer youse," announced the Flopper. Helena rose from her chair, and started for the door but the Flopper blocked the way.
And then she tried to think, think in a desperate sort of way of some subject of conversation that she might introduce that would stave off, postpone, defer the words that she knew were even now on his lips nothing she could think of nothing only that she might have let the Flopper have his way, have let him tell Thornton that she had gone to bed with the pip. The pip!
Through the car in the rear of the one he had occupied, the regular parlor car, the Flopper, a piteous spectacle, made his way chairs turned, the occupants craned their necks after the deformed and broken creature, while smothered exclamations and little cries of sympathy from the women followed him along. The Flopper's eyes never lifted from the strip of carpet before him, but his lips moved.
Money that he had never tried to count, notes of all denominations, large and small, glutted the receptacles jewels in necklaces, in rings, in pendants, in brooches, in bracelets, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, winked at him and scintillated and glowed and were afire. And he stood and looked upon them. What was it the Flopper had said when they had brought the Patriarch back he did not remember.
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