He'd listen to him abjectly, and he'd do whatever Woodburn told him to do." Beaton smiled cynically.
Fulkerson got up and reached for his coat and hat.

"You've struck it, old man." The waiter came up to help him on with his coat; Fulkerson slipped a dollar in his hand.

"Never mind the coat; you can give the rest of my dinner to the poor, Paolo.

Beaton, shake! You've saved my life, little boy, though I don't think you meant it." He took Beaton's hand and solemnly pressed it, and then almost ran out of the door.
They had just reached coffee at Mrs.Leighton's when he arrived and sat down with them and began to put some of the life of his new hope into them.

His appetite revived, and, after protesting that he would not take anything but coffee, he went back and ate some of the earlier courses.
But with the pressure of his purpose driving him forward, he did not conceal from Miss Woodburn, at least, that he was eager to get her apart from the rest for some reason.