Перевод текста,пожалйста помогите!I worked in a newspaper. One day Tripp came

Перевод текста,пожалйста помогите!
I worked in a newspaper. One day Tripp came in and leaned on my table. Tripp was something. He was about twenty-five and looked forty. His face was covered with short, curly red hair. He was pale and unhealthy and miserable and always was borrowing money from twenty-five cents to a dollar. One dollar was his limit. When he leaned on my table he held one hand with the other to keep from shaking. Whisky.

Well, Tripp, said I, looking at him rather impatiently, how is life? He was looking more miserable than I had ever seen him.

Have you got a dollar? asked Tripp looking at me with his dog-like eyes.

That day I had managed to get five dollars for my Sunday story. I have, I said; and again I said, I have, more loudly, and four besides. And I had hard work getting them. And I need them all.

I dont want to borrow any, said Tripp, I thought you would like to get a good story. Ive got a really fine one for you. It will probably cost you a dollar or two to get the stuff. I dont want anything for myself.

What is the story? I asked.