of a guardian angel to Mr. Edward Silk.




CHAPTER XXII

Mr. Nathan Smith, usually one of the most matter-of-fact men in the
world, came out of Mr. Swann's house in a semi-dazed condition, and for
some time after the front door had closed behind him stood gaping on the
narrow pavement.

He looked up and down the quiet little street and shook his head sadly.
It was a street of staid and substantial old houses; houses which had
mellowed and blackened with age, but whose quaint windows and
chance-opened doors afforded glimpses of comfort attesting to the
prosperity of those within. In the usual way Mr. Nathan Smith was of too
philosophical a temperament to experience the pangs of envy, but to-day
these things affected him, and he experienced a strange feeling of
discontent with his lot in life.

"Some people 'ave all the luck," he muttered, and walked slowly down the
road.

[Illustration: "'Some people 'ave all the luck,' he muttered."]

He continued his reflections as he walked through the somewhat squalid
streets of his own quarter. The afternoon was wet and the houses looked
dingier than usual; dirty, inconvenient little places most of them, with
a few cheap gimcracks making a brave show as near the window as possible.