Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 139: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

130 GUY HAMMERSLEY. he had not been sensible of hunger. Now, with the chase postponed necessarily until Monday, he felt himself overpowered with fatigue and weakness. ‘‘T want a good meal,” he muttered to himself with a mournful kind of smile, ‘‘ just when Iam least able to afford one. If I’d got a place and had a prospect of earning twenty dollars a week, say, I suppose I'd be so excited that I wouldn't have any appetite at all.” What to do next was now the question. There was his trunk still at the baggage room of the rail- road company. Never in his life had the poor fellow felt so desolate and unsettled. The very fact that he was walking along the street mechanically, not knowing whither he was going, actually sent a shiver through him as he realized it He must do something, go some- where, and feeling that a place for his trunk was the most pressing call upon him, he bent his steps toward an elevated station and took a train up- town, with the intention of calling on Miss Stanwix, He was plunged deep in gloomy meditations, hang- ing on to a strap as the train pulled out from the Eighteenth Street station, when he suddenly felt some- body tugging at his coat, and a half hesitating voice calling his name. He turned and saw Jack Bradford, his face radiant at the chance encounter. ‘<T’ve just come from the store,” he told Guy when they had shaken hands, ‘‘and I like itever so much. We close early on Saturday, you know.” Guy noted the evident pride with which the little Gomicbooks (€() m