Martin Eden

Chapter XXIV

The weeks passed. Martin ran out of money, and publishers' checks

were far away as ever. All his important manuscripts had come back

and been started out again, and his hack-work fared no better. His

little kitchen was no longer graced with a variety of foods.

Caught in the pinch with a part sack of rice and a few pounds of

dried apricots, rice and apricots was his menu three times a day

for five days hand-running. Then he startled to realize on his

credit. The Portuguese grocer, to whom he had hitherto paid cash,

called a halt when Martin's bill reached the magnificent total of

three dollars and eighty-five cents.

"For you see," said the grocer, "you no catcha da work, I losa da

mon'."

And Martin could reply nothing. There was no way of explaining.

It was not true busin