They had started down the street, arm in arm, the young man pushing Jurgis along, half dazed. Jurgis was trying to think what to do⁠—he knew he could not pass any crowded place with his new acquaintance without attracting attention and being stopped. It was only because of the falling snow that people who passed here did not notice anything wrong.

Suddenly, therefore, Jurgis stopped. “Is it very far?” he inquired.

“Not very,” said the other. “Tired, are you, though? Well, we’ll ride⁠—whatcha say? Good! Call a cab!”

And then, gripping Jurgis tight with one hand, the young fellow began searching his pockets with the other. “You call, ole sport, an’ I’ll pay,” he suggested. “How’s that, hey?”

And he pulled out from somewhere a big roll of bills. It was more money than Jurgis had ever seen in his life before, and he stared at it with startled eyes.