Besides, thirty-one dollars would not last long at a summer resort--and he remembered he would not have thirty-one dollars when he landed; he would have what was left after he had paid his fare from San Francisco, and had eaten once or twice.
Straightway he became hungry, perhaps because a porter came down the aisle announcing the interesting fact that breakfast was now being served in the diner--fourth car rear.

Jack felt as though he could eat about five dollars' worth of breakfast.

He was only a month or so past twenty-two, remember, and he himself had not committed any crime save the crime of foolishness.
He slid farther down upon his spine, pulled his nice new sombrero lower on the bridge of his tanned nose, and tried to forget that back there in the diner they would give him grapefruit on ice, and after that rolled oats with thick yellow cream, and after that ham and eggs or a tenderloin steak or broiled squab on toast; and tried to remember only that the check would make five dollars look sick.

He wished he knew how much the fare would be to some of those places where he meant to lose himself.

With all that classy-looking paraphernalia he would not dare attempt to beat his way on a freight.