the "Half-way House." To wander through the town, half conscious of its
strangeness and novel bustling life, and to dream of a higher and
nobler future with Miss Mayfield--to feel no responsibility but that
of waiting--was, I regret to say, a pleasure to him. He made no
acquaintances except among the poorer people and the children. He was
sometimes hungry, he was always poorly clad, but these facts carried
no degradation with them now. He read much, and in his way--Jeff's
way--tried to improve his mind; his recent commercial experience had
shown him various infelicities in his speech and accent. He learned to
correct certain provincialisms. He was conscious that Miss Mayfield
must have noticed them, yet his odd irrational pride kept him from ever
regretting them, if they had offered a possible excuse for her treatment
of him.

On one of these nights his steps chanced to lead him into a
gambling-saloon. The place had offered no temptation to him; his
dealings with the goddess Chance had been of less active nature.
Nevertheless he placed his last five dollars on the turn of a card. He
won. He won repeatedly; his gains had reached a considerable sum when,
flushed, excited, and absorbed, he was suddenly conscious that he had
become the centre of observation at the table. Looking up, he saw that
the dealer had paused, and, with the cards in his motionless fingers,
was gazing at him with fixed eyes and a white face.

Jeff rose and passed hurriedly to his side. "What's the matter?"

The gambler shrunk slightly as he approached. "What's your name?"

"Briggs."