He would have to borrow money for his next meal, if he did that, and Bud was touchy about such things.
He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally they had a way of tipping upward, as though he was secretly amused at something--and his eyes sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how they used to twinkle.

He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully.

As plainly as though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that this was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind him laughed abruptly.

Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun.
"If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't make the proposition I was going to make.

Thought I could talk business to you, maybe--but I guess I better tie a can to that idea." Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket.
"What idea's that ?" "Oh, driving a car I'm taking south.