People called him a
thoroughbred. The fear and contempt with which his craft was
regarded was undoubtedly the reason that his quiet dignity shone
conspicuous above the quiet dignity of men who might be merely
hatters, billiard-markers or grocery clerks. Beyond an occasional
unwary traveler, who came by rail, this gambler was supposed to prey
solely upon reckless and senile farmers, who, when flush with good
crops, drove into town in all the pride and confidence of an
absolutely invulnerable stupidity. Hearing at times in circuitous
fashion of the despoilment of such a farmer, the important men of
Romper invariably laughed in contempt of the victim, and if they
thought of the wolf at all, it was with a kind of pride at the
knowledge that he would never dare think of attacking their wisdom and
courage. Besides, it was popular that this gambler had a real wife,
and two real children in a neat cottage in a suburb, where he led an
exemplary home life, and when any one even suggested a discrepancy
in his character, the crowd immediately vociferated descriptions of
this virtuous family circle. Then men who led exemplary home lives,
and men who did not lead exemplary home lives, all subsided in a
bunch, remarking that there was nothing more to be said.
However, when a restriction was placed upon him- as, for instance,
when a strong clique of members of the new Pollywog Club refused to
permit him, even as a spectator, to appear in the rooms of the
organization- the candor and gentleness with which he accepted the
judgment disarmed many of his foes and made his friends more
desperately partisan.
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