Ten Dollars and a Job for Bud

But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the wreck of
their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods before her, and
marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his martyrdom. It soothed
him paradoxically to tell himself that he was "cleaned"; that Marie had
ruined him absolutely, and that he was just ten dollars and a decent
suit or two of clothes better off than a tramp. He was tempted to go
back and send the ten dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but
good sense prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal,
if he did that, and Bud was touchy about such things.

He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he
felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the
corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally they had a way of tipping
upward, as though he was secretly amused at something--and his eyes
sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how they
used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket,
straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly
as though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that
this was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a
gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind
him laughed abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent
glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun.