Not knowing whitherward to point his foot, he stopped at the corner of
King William Street, close to the money-shops of the old Lombards, and
there stood still, in vain endeavor to realize the blow that had stunned
him. There he stood and stood, with bowed head, like an outcast beggar,
watching the rain that dropped black from the rim of his saturated hat.
Becoming suddenly conscious, however, that the few wayfarers glanced
somewhat curiously at him as they passed, he started to walk on, not
knowing whither, but trying to look as if he had a purpose somewhere
inside him, whereas he had still a question to settle--whether to buy a
bun, and, on the strength of that, walk home, or spend his few remaining
pence on an omnibus, as far as it would take him for the money, and walk
the rest of the way.
Then, suddenly, as if out of the depths of despair, arose in him an
assurance of help on the way to him, and with it a strength to look in
the face the worst that could befall him; he might at least starve in
patience. Therewith he drew himself up, crossed the street to the corner
of the Mansion House, and got into an omnibus waiting there.
If only he could creep into his grave and have done! Why should that
hostelry of refuge stand always shut? Surely he was but walking in his
own funeral! Were not the mourners already going about the street before
ever the silver cord was loosed or the golden bowl broken? Might he not
now at length feel at liberty to end the life he had ceased to value?
But there was Annie! He would go home to her; she would comfort
him--yes, she would die with him! There was no other escape; there was
no sign of coming deliverance.
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