The man went out and down the walk with a hurried, determined air, as if
afraid to trust his own resolution.
As Ridgeley turned toward his desk he met Mrs. Field, who faced him with
tears of fervent sympathy in her eyes.
"Isn't it awful?" she said, in a half whisper. "Poor fellow, what will
become of him?"
"Oh, I don't know. He'll get along some way. Such fellows do. I've had
'em before. They try it awhile here; then they move. I can't worry about
them."
Mrs. Field was not listening to his shifty words. "And then, think of
his wife--how she must worry."