Something made him forget the lost
clew to the lodging-house--
something made him turn and go with
her--a thing led in the dark.
"How can you find your way?"
he said. "I lost mine."
"There ain't no fog can lose me,"
she answered, shuffling along by his
side; " 'sides, it's goin' to lift.
Look at that man comin' to'ards us."
It was true that they could see
through the orange-colored mist the
approaching figure of a man who
was at a yard's distance from them.
Yes, it was lifting slightly--at least
enough to allow of one's making a
guess at the direction in which one
moved.
"Where are you going?" he
asked.
"Apple Blossom Court," she
answered. "The cawfee-stand's in a
street near it--and there's a shop
where I can buy things."
"Apple Blossom Court!" he
ejaculated. "What a name!"
"There ain't no apple-blossoms
there," chuckling; "nor no smell
of 'em. 'T ain't as nice as its nime
is--Apple Blossom Court ain't."
"What do you want to buy? A
pair of shoes?" The shoes her
naked feet were thrust into were
leprous-looking things through which
nearly all her toes protruded. But
she chuckled when he spoke.
"No, I 'm goin' to buy a di'mond
tirarer to go to the opery in," she
said, dragging her old sack closer
round her neck. "I ain't ad a noo
un since I went to the last Drorin'-
room."
It was impudent street chaff, but
there was cheerful spirit in it, and
cheerful spirit has some occult effect
upon morbidity.
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