A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

(In _Suburban Sketches_)


It was long past the twilight hour, which has been already mentioned as
so oppressive in suburban places, and it was even too late for visitors,
when a resident, whom I shall briefly describe as a contributor to the
magazines, was startled by a ring at his door. As any thoughtful person
would have done upon the like occasion, he ran over his acquaintance in
his mind, speculating whether it were such or such a one, and dismissing
the whole list of improbabilities, before he laid down the book he was
reading and answered the bell. When at last he did this, he was rewarded
by the apparition of an utter stranger on his threshold,--a gaunt figure
of forlorn and curious smartness towering far above him, that jerked him
a nod of the head, and asked if Mr. Hapford lived there. The face which
the lamplight revealed was remarkable for a harsh two days' growth of
beard, and a single bloodshot eye; yet it was not otherwise a sinister
countenance, and there was something in the strange presence that
appealed and touched. The contributor, revolving the facts vaguely in
his mind, was not sure, after all, that it was not the man's clothes
rather than his expression that softened him toward the rugged visage:
they were so tragically cheap; and the misery of helpless needle-women,
and the poverty and ignorance of the purchaser, were so apparent in