ding here in a blank wall--or he was grown suddenly old, and could
go no farther--or was trying vainly to rise from a bed of sickness.
His eyes burned, his head was heavy as lead, and his heart seemed
dead and cold, as hands and feet may do in winter when on the point of
freezing.

He rose to his feet, and bathed his face again and again with cold
water. Then he straightened his hair, put on his clothes, and went
out.

He took his way direct to a certain street, reached the house he was
seeking, and knocked. There were people moving in the yard, and some
children about; but he felt no shame, and knocked as easily as if it
had been a church door.

The panel opened, and the harsh voice of an old woman asked:

"What d'you want here at this hour? The girls are not up yet."

"When will they be up?"

"In a couple of hours or so."

He looked at his watch, and went out into the street. For a while he
wandered up and down, then took the road out from the town, and went
straight on.

When he came back his face was pale; his feet were so weary he could
hardly drag himself along.

He knocked again; the panel was thrust aside, and a face peeped
through, then the door was opened.

"Hallo!" It was the girl of the night before. She was half-dressed,
her eyes dull, her face tired and haggard. Olof felt as if he were
breathing in the fumes of beer and wine and all unspeakable nastiness.

"Your friend--is she up yet? I want to see her," he stammered.

"Up--ay, she's up long ago; you can see for yourself."

She vanished down the passage, and returned in a moment with a
crumpled sheet of notepaper, which she handed him.

Olof glanced at it, and read, hastily scribbled in pencil, these
words:

"When you get this I shall be far away. I am going and not coming
back. I can't stay here.--ELLI."

"There--what's the meaning of that, if you please?" cried the girl.

Olof made no answer. He held the paper in a trembling hand, and read
it again and again; a weight seemed lifted from his shoulders.

"May I--may I keep this?" he asked, with flushing cheeks.

"Keep it--ay, eat it, if you like."

"Good-bye--and--and...." He pressed the girl's hand, as if unconscious
of what he was doing.

The girl watched him as he hurried away.

"Queer lot," she murmured. "Something wrong somewhere...."

BY THE ROADSIDE

A man came walking down the sandy, grass-bordered road.

He walked mechanically, like a machine set to go, and