He had been there for several years for
one of the minor offenses against the law. His term
would probably have been shorter, but the judge
had been careless, and he had no friends. Stebbins
had never been the sort to make many friends,
although he had never cherished animosity toward
any human being. Even some injustice in his sen-
tence had not caused him to feel any rancor.
During his stay in the prison he had not been
really unhappy. He had accepted the inevitable --
the yoke of the strong for the weak -- with a patience
which brought almost a sense of enjoyment. But,
now that he was free, he had suddenly become alert,
watchful of chances for his betterment. From being
a mere kenneled creature he had become as a
hound on the scent, the keenest on earth -- that of
self-interest. He was changed, while yet living, from
a being outside the world to one with the world
before him. He felt young, although he was a
middle-aged, almost elderly man. He had in his
pocket only a few dollars. He might have had more
had he not purchased the checked suit and had he
not given much away. There was another man whose
term would be up in a week, and he had a sickly
wife and several children. Stebbins, partly from
native kindness and generosity, partly from a senti-
ment which almost amounted to superstition, had
given him of his slender store.
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