Jack wished there was something he could be great at, some skill or talent he could find in himself that would give him something to do. He was a good fighter—no one anywhere near his own size had ever beaten him, in or out of the orphanage—but that was different, because every man ought to be able to defend himself, with his fists or a knife or a gun or whatever came to hand. That was basic. No, he wished he had some talent, like Billy’s for pool, that would make him as busy with himself as Billy seemed to be. And anyway, a talent like Billy’s was worth money; that was the end result of
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