Are you the destroyer of threads? [Possibly NSFW]

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To avoid him you dodge into the nearest cafe.
I explained that I had only aboutsixty francs left and must get a job immediately.
But, my dear Boris, how can you, in daytime? I took the money and the pawnticket andwalked out.
Later on, Boris and I sometimes went to the rue du Commerce together.
Borisshotel was the dirtiest hotel in the street.
Afterwards, when it was too late, I learned that it was wiser to goto a pawnshop in the afternoon. It appeared that on the previous night the Jew had flatly refused topay the daily two francs. I arrived at half-past four in the morning, when the work wasgetting into its swing. He decided against the plan in the end, because we were bothforeigners and easily recognized. He had friends, mostly ex-officers like himself,here and there all over Paris. I left Boris at my room and went down to the pawnshop.
In this lifewhich is so sad, trouble conies to everyone.
And then go through his pockets and bolt. How expensivethose English clothes must be! VIIIWe had now twenty-eight francs in hand, and could start looking forwork once more. Then the luck changed as though by a miracle. We always got the same answer: they did notwant a lame man, nor a man without experience.
Tomorrow we shall find something, MON AMI, I know it in my bones. It seems to me that the only thing isto pawn our overcoats and get some food.
He owes a weeks rent, andhis idea is to avoid paying that and give me the slip at the same time.
Boris was to give a cough when he thought the moment favourable. I hoped to catch enough fora meal, but of course I did not. A surly PATRON, sitting in theoffice, said to me. So, though I came near to starving in the following weeks, Iwas hardly ever without a roof. It weighed three hundredweight, possibly.
You discover the extreme precariousness of your six francs a day.
I arrived at half-past four in the morning, when the work wasgetting into its swing.
The barman at Maxims, forinstance, makes five hundred francs a day. It is hours before youdare venture into a bakers shop again. It is the suburbs, as it were, of poverty.
Once Boris suggested that I should go to Les Halles and try for a jobas a porter. In spite of all this Boris managed to keep a fairly smartappearance.
When we had got back to my room we spent another one franc fifty onbread and chocolate.

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