When the sun fell behind the horizon, and the breakwater, after dashing
up one flash of gold, became a blue blur, Gregorio rose to go. As
he walked back toward the Penny-farthing Shop he felt angry and
unsatisfied. The whole day was wasted. He had done nothing to relieve
his wife, nothing to pay off Amos. Madam met him at the door, a flask of
wine in her hand. Against his will Gregorio entered her cafe and smiled,
but his smile was sour and malevolent.
"You want cheering, my friend," said madam, laughing.
"I have found nothing to do," said Gregorio.
"Ah! I told you it would be hard. There are no tourists in Alexandria
now. And it is foolish of you to tramp the streets looking for work that
you will never find, when you have everything you can want here."
"Except money, and that's everything," put in Gregorio, bluntly.
"Even money, my friend. I have enough for two."
Madam Marx had played her trump card, and she watched anxiously the
effect of her words. For a moment the man did not speak, but trifled
with his cigarette tobacco, rolling it gently between his brown fingers.
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