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I
believe
I
ll
turn
in
,
said
the
man
.
Rising
,
he
went
to
one
of
the
cots
and
stretched
himself
,
removing
only
his
shoes
,
and
pulling
the
one
blanket
and
dirty
old
comforter
over
him
in
a
sort
of
bundle
.
The
sight
disgusted
Hurstwood
,
but
he
did
not
dwell
on
it
,
choosing
to
gaze
into
the
stove
and
think
of
something
else
.
Presently
he
decided
to
retire
,
and
picked
a
cot
,
also
removing
his
shoes
.
While
he
was
doing
so
,
the
youth
who
had
advised
him
to
come
here
entered
,
and
,
seeing
Hurstwood
,
tried
to
be
genial
.
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Better
n
nothin
,
he
observed
,
looking
around
.
Hurstwood
did
not
take
this
to
himself
.
He
thought
it
to
be
an
expression
of
individual
satisfaction
,
and
so
did
not
answer
.
The
youth
imagined
he
was
out
of
sorts
,
and
set
to
whistling
softly
.
Seeing
another
man
asleep
,
he
quit
that
and
lapsed
into
silence
.
Hurstwood
made
the
best
of
a
bad
lot
by
keeping
on
his
clothes
and
pushing
away
the
dirty
covering
from
his
head
,
but
at
last
he
dozed
in
sheer
weariness
.
The
covering
became
more
and
more
comfortable
,
its
character
was
forgotten
,
and
he
pulled
it
about
his
neck
and
slept
.
In
the
morning
he
was
aroused
out
of
a
pleasant
dream
by
several
men
stirring
about
in
the
cold
,
cheerless
room
.
He
had
been
back
in
Chicago
in
fancy
,
in
his
own
comfortable
home
.
Jessica
had
been
arranging
to
go
somewhere
,
and
he
had
been
talking
with
her
about
it
.
This
was
so
clear
in
his
mind
,
that
he
was
startled
now
by
the
contrast
of
this
room
.
He
raised
his
head
,
and
the
cold
,
bitter
reality
jarred
him
into
wakefulness
.
Guess
I
d
better
get
up
,
he
said
.
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There
was
no
water
on
this
floor
.
He
put
on
his
shoes
in
the
cold
and
stood
up
,
shaking
himself
in
his
stiffness
.
His
clothes
felt
disagreeable
,
his
hair
bad
.
Hell
!
he
muttered
,
as
he
put
on
his
hat
.