Darrow was telling me just before you came in of a man in one of the houses where he has been working--a returned soldier too--who has walked the streets for weeks in search of work.

He has been unable to pay his rent, so of course he is obliged to move somewhere, if he can find a place to move into.

Oh, I realize perfectly what you are going to say! The brief prosperity of the war still envelops the labouring man in your mind; and you are preparing to remind me of the lace curtains and victrolas of yesterday.

Yes, I admit that lace curtains and victrolas are not necessities.

It was a case where nature cropped out in the wrong spot.
Even the working-man may have suppressed desires, you see, and lace curtains and victrolas may stand not only for the improvidence of the poor, but for the neurasthenic yearnings of the rich.