went out upon the
thoroughfare, glad to brush shoulders with the home-goers, glad to
feel one with them in the brilliant pageant of the living. And always
he searched for the face he had met twice that day.

The lights glowed mellow in the mist and struck out shimmering golden
bars on the asphalt. The song of shuffling feet and the accompaniment
of the clattering hansoms rang excitedly in his ears. He felt that he
was touching the points of a thousand quick romances. The flash of a
smile, a quick step, were enough to make him press on eagerly in the
possibility that it was here, perhaps, the loose end of his own life
was to be taken up.

As the crowd thinned away and he became more conspicuous to the
prowling eyes which seemed to challenge him, he took a path across the
Public Gardens, and so reached the broader sweep of the avenue where
the comfortable stone houses snuggle shoulder to shoulder. The lower
windows were lighted behind drawn shades. Against the stubborn stone
angles the light shone out with appealing warmth. Every window was
like an invitation. Occasionally a door opened, emitting a path of
yellow light to the dripping walk, framing for a second a man or a
woman; sometimes a man and a woman. When they vanished the dark always
seemed to settle down upon him more stubbornly.

Then as the clock boomed ten he saw her again. Through the mist he saw
her making her uncertain way along the walk across the street,
stopping every now and then to glance hesitatingly at the lighted
windows, pause, and move on again. Suddenly, from the shadow of the
area way, Wilson saw an officer swoop down upon her like a hawk. The
woman started back with a little cry as the officer placed his hand
upon her arm. Wilson saw this through the mist like a shadow picture
and then he crossed the road. As he approached them both looked up,
the girl wistfully, the officer with an air of bravado. Wilson faced
the vigorous form in the helmet and rubber overcoat.

"Well," growled the officer, "what you doin' round here?"

"Am I doing anything wrong?"

"That's wot I'm goneter find out. Yer've both been loafin' here fer an
hour."

"No," answered Wilson, "I haven't been loafing."

"Wot yer doin' then?"

"Living."

Wilson caught an eager look from the shadowed face of the girl. He
met the other eyes which peered viciously into his with frank
aggressiveness. He never in his life had felt toward any fellow-creature
as he felt towards th