Of what use is money in the hand of a fool, since he has no desire to get wisdom? (Proverbs 17:16).

The stranger is tall, with scraggly hair and a threadbare jacket.  Otherwise, he is remarkably well-kept:  clean-shaven, no obvious signs of addiction such as trembling hands or wobbly knees.  Still, there's something in his eyes -- a sort of hollow, restless lack of focus -- which tells me he's homeless.  Plus there are the obvious circumstances to confirm the theory, specifically that he's asking me, a perfect stranger, for money on a street corner in Amsterdam Oost.  The way he addresses me with his request for money suggests that he hasn't eaten in awhile.

So I say, "Come on, let's get you something to eat."  I motion for him to follow me up the block to where there's a supermarket.  I'm not a wealthy man, but I figure I can spare a few euros to provide a hungry person with something to eat.

But the stranger hesitates.  "Well, actually..." he stalls, looking at his feet.  "I'm starting to wonder if it might be more important to buy a train ticket, so I can go down to my brother's place in Zoetemeer."  He smiles, sheepishly.  "Sorry.  I was just thinking that it probably makes more sense for me to get down there, so he can help take care of me.  Then it's not just filling my belly for one meal, but I could have more support for a longer period of time, you know?"

I nod that I do, indeed, know.  Naturally, the train station is a good bit further away.  Still, I smile and say, "Well, all right.  Let's go to the station, then, and I can help buy a ticket for you."  I shift my weight to suggest that maybe we should get started.  "When was the last time you talked with your brother?"  I figure I might as well try to be friendly and make small talk, since it's going to be a long walk to the station.

But again, the stranger hesitates.  "Well, actually..." He digs his hands into his pockets until his elbows are straight.  "Now that I think of it, this may not be a good time for me to go and visit my brother.  Actually, I think it might be more important to get some money together for a hotel room."  He rubs his hands on the backs of his crossed arms and looks up at the sky.  "It feels like it's going to be a cold night."

I'm a little bothered by his immediate changes in tactics, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.  "All right, I can see your point," I say.  "I don't have a lot of money for a hotel room, but..."

The stranger interrupts me eagerly at this juncture and says, "That's OK, my friend.  Of course I couldn't expect you to pay for the entire cost of a stranger's hotel room all by yourself.  But if you had any money to contribute to the cause, I would certainly appreciate it."  He flashes me a nicotine smile, which seems to be his attempt at communicating, "No worries, you can trust me."  Yet his hand trembles slightly as it reaches out to receive the contribution that he expects to be coming from me.

"Actually," I say, "I was going to say that I know of a good, clean hostel in the city center where I could get you a bed and some breakfast for about 20 euros -- and I'd be willing to do that for you.  Or else, maybe you know another similarly-priced place to stay here in the neighborhood."

"Forget it, man," the stranger says.  "If you're not going to give me any money, just say so."

So I do.  And we go our separate ways.