from page 336 of DEVIL MAKE A THIRD:

Buck watched him (Virgil) take a few steps up the sunny side of the street, wondering if he ever played the giutar, or if it was simply a friend whose voice he knew he could hear if he chose.

"Virgil!" he called, abruptly, hardly knowing why. Virgil turned to face, but not see him. "You never have been crazy, have you? You've been throwing a bluff for twenty years."

"No, I'm not crazy," Virgil said and his thin lips quivered, "But my brother is. He works."

Buck laughed out loud and pushed his hand out and away from him as if to hurry Virgil off again on  his leisurely visit with the town. He realized, queerly, that it was the first time he'd laughed in a long time and turned towards the hotel, walking slowly, letting his mind lumber over Virgil.

"Damn if he ain't right in one way," he thought, and tried to put it into words. "Can't sleep in but one bed at a time. Can't eat but three meals a day and be comfortable, or wear more that one suit at a time. Reckon if a fellow stretched that thinking out, he'd figure anything above what he needs is like a mill rock that he'd got to drag along. If that's so, I'm toting a load."