And if money were so necessary, how long could he earn it?
Kling would soon discover how useless he was, and then the tin box, emptied of its contents and the last keepsake pawned or sold, the end would come.
None of these anxieties had ever assailed him before.

He had been like a man walking in a dream, his gaze fixed on but one exit, regardless of the dangers besetting his steps.

Now the truth confronted him.

He had reached the limit of his resources.

To hope for much from Kling was idle.