"Why haven't you shaved your face? Did you lose a bet?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet?"

"No; I bet my landlord that I could land a job in one day even with this beard."

"All right, we'll let you know."

"I don't have a phone."

"That's all right, Mr. Chinaski."

I left and went back to my room. I went down the dirty hall and took a hot bath. Then I put my clothes back on and went out and got a bottle of wine. I came back to the room and sat by the window drinking and watching the people in the bar, watching the people walk by. I drank slowly and began to think again of getting a gun and doing it quickly-without all the thought and talk. A matter of guts. I wondered about my guts. I finished the bottle and went to bed and slept. About 4 p.m. I was awakened by a knock on the door. It was a Western Union boy. I opened the telegram:

MR. H. CHINASKI. REPORT TO WORK 8 AM TOMORROW. R.M. HEATHERCLIFF CO.