The air was stifling, yet I could not, arrayed as I was or in the company of my client, go into the regular passenger coach.

At Hartford we changed for Springfield and I purchased a New York paper.

There was nothing in it relating to the case and I breathed more easily; but, once in Springfield, I knew not which way to turn, and Hawkins by this time was crazy for drink and refusing to go farther.

I gave him enough liquor to keep him quiet and thrust him on a way train for Worcester.

Already I had exhausted my small bills and when I tried to cash one for a hundred dollars the ticket agent in the station eyed me with suspicion.
That night we slept in a single bed, Hawkins and I, in a cheap lodging-house--that is, _he_ slept a sordid, drunken sleep, while I lay tossing and cursing my fate until, burning with fever, I rose and drained part of the water in the pitcher.