reckless, plebeian little piece of earth, shivering, her hands bare and rough, the sleet whipping her face, on the side of which was a discoloration—the result of a blow, perchance. Then he turned his eyes from her who had drawn them.
The arc light above him hung like a dreadful white-bellied insect hovering on two long black wings, and he saw a woman in sleet-soaked rags, bent almost double under a load of sticks collected for firewood. Her hair hung thin and gray in elf-locks, her red eyelids had lost their lashes so that the eyes appeared as those of a bird of prey. The wizened hands clutching the cord which bound the sticks seemed like talons. She importuned a passer-by for help, and, being denied, she cursed him; and Robert watched the wretched creature crawl away homeward—back to the slums.
These were manifestations of the life of thousands in metropolitan history. Robert shook himself, shuddering, as though aroused from a trance.
He had started out to go anywhere or nowhere, but the next hour found him in the presence of Cherokee, and she was saying:
"How awfully fond you are of giving pleasant surprises."
"I am amazed at myself for coming such a night, and that too without your permission."
