Numéro
83 gathered up his pants and shambled out, muttering to
himself.
The clothes I was pawning, together with the suitcase,
had cost over twenty pounds, and were in good condition.
I thought they must be worth ten pounds, and a quarter
of this (one expects quarter value at a pawnshop) was
two hundred and fifty or three hundred francs. I waited
without anxiety, expecting two hundred francs at the
worst.
At last the clerk called my number: «
Numéro 97!"
"Yes," I said, standing up.
"Seventy francs?"
Seventy francs for ten pounds' worth of clothes! But it
was no use arguing; I had seen someone else attempt to
argue, and the clerk had instantly refused the pledge. I
took the money and the pawnticket and walked out. I
had now no clothes except what I stood up in-the coat
badly out at the elbow-an overcoat, moderately pawnable,
and one spare shirt. Afterwards, when it was too late, I
learned that it was wiser to go to a pawnshop in the
afternoon. The clerks are French, and, like most French
people, are in a bad temper till they have eaten their
lunch.
When I got home, Madame F. was sweeping the
bistro floor. She came up the steps to meet me. I could