The day must bring something but it might not bring him back that night.
At the drug store he purchased a bowl of vegetable soup, loaded it heavily with catsup at intervals when the attendant had other matters on his mind, and seized an extra half--portion of crackers left on their plate by a satiated neighbour.

He cared little for catsup, but it doubtless bore nourishing elements, and nourishment was now important.
He crumpled his paper napkin and laid upon the marble slab a trifling silver coin.

It was the last of his hoard.

When he should eat next and under what circumstances were now as uncertain as where he should sleep that night, though he was already resolving that catsup would be no part of his meal.

It might be well enough in its place, but he had abundantly proved that it was not, strictly speaking, a food.
He reached the Holden studios and loitered outside for half an hour before daring the daily inquiry at the window.