This was not lost upon Blizzard. It was an ordinary enough human
sensation, whose reflections had often enough given the iron that was in
his soul another twist and refreshed in him vengefulness and hatred. Yet
on the present occasion the knowledge that he was physically loathed
roused in the man a feeling rather of that despair which may be
experienced by the drowning at that precise moment when the straw so
eagerly clutched has proved itself a straw, and he winced as beneath a
shocking blow between the eyes.

On discovering that the creature was maimed it had been Barbara's first
impulse to pass swiftly on. But another glance at the face which had
arrested her held her. She took some coins from her purse and dropped
them into the tin cup which the beggar held out to her. And he looked
upward into her face.

"Did you ever pose for any one?" she asked.

"Yes, miss."

"I should like to make a bust of you. I'll see that it pays you better
than--better than earning a living this way."

For the first time Blizzard smiled. "Do you want me to come now?" he
asked.

"Yes," she said. "My studio is in No. 17 McBurney Place." Here she
stopped upon a somewhat embarrassing thought. But the legless man read
what was in her mind.