and contemptuous when he forced himself
upon them. They had their own affairs, and there was no place for him
among them. There was no place for him anywhere--every direction he
turned his gaze, this fact was forced upon him: Everything was built
to express it to him: the residences, with their heavy walls and bolted
doors, and basement windows barred with iron; the great warehouses
filled with the products of the whole world, and guarded by iron
shutters and heavy gates; the banks with their unthinkable billions of
wealth, all buried in safes and vaults of steel.

And then one day there befell Jurgis the one adventure of his life. It
was late at night, and he had failed to get the price of a lodging. Snow
was falling, and he had been out so long that he was covered with it,
and was chilled to the bone. He was working among the theater crowds,
flitting here and there, taking large chances with the police, in his
desperation half hoping to be arrested. When he saw a blue-coat start
toward him, however, his heart failed him, and he dashed down a side
street and fled a couple of blocks. When he stopped again he saw a man
coming toward him, and placed himself in his path.

"Please, sir," he began, in the usual formula, "will you give me the
price of a lodging? I've had a broken arm, and I can't work, and I've
not a cent in my pocket. I'm an honest working-man, sir, and I never
begged before! It's not my fault, sir--"

Jurgis usually went on until he was interrupted, but this man did not
interrupt, and so at last he came to a breathless stop. The other had
halted, and Jurgis suddenly noticed that he stood a little unsteadily.
"Whuzzat you say?" he queried suddenly, in a thick voice.

Jurgis began again, speaking more slowly and distinctly; before he was
half through the other put out his hand and rested it upon his shoulder.
"Poor ole chappie!" he said. "Been up--hic--up--against it, hey?"

Then he lurched toward Jurgis, and the hand upon his shoulder became an
arm about his neck. "Up against it myself, ole sport," he said. "She's a
hard ole world."

They were close to a lamppost, and Jurgis got a glimpse of the other. He
was a young fellow--not much over eighteen, with a handsome boyish face.
He wore a silk hat and a rich soft overcoat with a fur collar; and he
smiled at Jurgis with benignant sympathy. "I'm hard up, too, my
goo' fren'," he said. "I've got cruel parents, or I'd set you up.
Whuzzamatter whizyer?"

"