their shoulders together as they walked, for it was night, and a
cold, sleety rain was falling. The lights from saloons and
pawn-shops fell upon their faces--faces haggard and gaunt with
misery, or bloated with disease and sin. Some stared before them
fixedly; some gazed about with furtive and hungry eyes as they
shuffled on. Here and there a policeman stood in the shelter,
swinging his club and watching them as they passed. Music called to
them from dives and dance-halls, and lighted signs and flaring-
colored pictures tempted them in the entrances of cheap museums and
theatres; they lingered before these, glad of even a moment's
shelter. Overhead the elevated trains pounded by; and from the
windows one could see men crowded about the stoves in the rooms of
lodging-houses, where the steam from their garments made a blur in
the air.

Down this highway walked a lad, about fifteen years of age, pale of
face, and with delicate and sensitive features. His overcoat was
buttoned tightly about his neck, and his hands thrust into his
pockets; he gazed around him swiftly as he walked. He came to this
place every now and then, but he never grew used to what he saw.

He eyed the men who passed him; and when he came to a saloon he
would push open the door and gaze about. Sometimes he would enter,
and hurry through, to peer into the compartments in the back; and
then go out again, giving a wide berth to the drinkers, and
shrinking from their glances. Once a girl appeared in a doorway, and
smiled and nodded to him; he started and hurried out, shuddering.
Her wanton black eyes haunted him, hinting unimaginable things.

Then, on a corner, he stopped and spoke to a policeman. "Hello!"