She guided them back through the fog until they entered the murky
doorway again. Then she almost ran up the staircase to the room they
had left.

When the door opened the thief fell back a pace as before an
unexpected thing. It was the flare of firelight which struck upon his
eyes. He passed his hand over them.

"A fire!" he said. "I haven't seen one for a week. Coming out of the
blackness it gives a man a start."

Improvident joy gleamed in Glad's eyes.

"We'll be warm onct," she chuckled, "if we ain't never warm agaen."

She drew her circle about the hearth again. The thief took the place
next to her and she handed out food to him--a big slice of meat, bread,
a thick slice of pudding.

"Fill yerself up," she said. "Then ye'll feel like yer can talk."

The man tried to eat his food with decorum, some recollection of the
habits of better days restraining him, but starved nature was too much
for him. His hands shook, his eyes filled, his teeth tore. The rest of
the circle tried not to look at him. Glad and Polly occupied themselves
with their own food.

Antony Dart gazed at the fire. Here he sat warming himself in a loft
with a beggar, a thief, and a helpless thing of the street. He had come