I nodded. "I wish I could come in, but I can't." I shivered, though
I was not cold. "I am going up-town." A minute before I had no
intention of going up-town, but to go indoors was suddenly
impossible. Whatever was possessing me must be fought off alone. "I
will bring you my copy of Men and Nations to-morrow. Keep it as long
as you wish."

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you hearty. I'll take good care of it. I
suppose you haven't heard of the widow Robb? Her name's Patty, you
know, and she's got a beau. He's named Cake. Luck plays tricks with
love, don't it? Don't get caught in a snow-storm. You ain't"--his
voice was anxious--"you ain't thinking of leaving us, are you? The
girls down here are needing of you, needing sore. All of us are
needing of you."

I shook my head. "Of course I'm not thinking of leaving you." I
waved my hand in response to his wave of the bottle, and, not seeing
where I went, I turned the corner and, head bent to keep out of my
face the tiny particles of sleet and snow beginning to fall, walked
for some distance before noticing where I was.

Much of my city, unknown to me a short while ago, was now familiar,
but to much I was still a stranger, and presently I was wondering
concerning the occupants of the houses I was passing. The shabby
gentility and dull respectability of the latter was depressing, and
to escape the radiation of their dreariness I turned into first one
street and then another, and as I walked the girl with the boyish
face walked with me, the face with its hunted fear. She had held the
baby as if frightened, and when she turned the corner she was