gently.

"I'm a respectable old man, really," said his neighbour; "I never took a
liberty in my life. But at my age, sir, you get nervous; standin' about
the streets as I been this last week, an' sleepin' in them
doss-houses--Oh, they're dreadful rough places--a dreadful rough lot
there! Yes," the old man said again, as Shelton turned to look at him,
struck by the real self-pity in his voice, "dreadful rough places!"

A movement of his head, which grew on a lean, plucked neck like that of
an old fowl, had brought his face into the light. It was long, and run
to seed, and had a large, red nose; its thin, colourless lips were
twisted sideways and apart, showing his semi-toothless mouth; and his
eyes had that aged look of eyes in which all colour runs into a thin rim
round the iris; and over them kept coming films like the films over
parrots' eyes. He was, or should have been, clean-shaven. His hair--for
he had taken off his hat was thick and lank, of dusty colour, as far as
could be seen, without a speck of grey, and parted very beautifully just
about the middle.

"I can put up with that," he said again. "I never interferes with
nobody, and nobody don't interfere with me; but what frightens me"--his
voice grew steady, as if too terrified to shake, is never knowin' day to
day what 's to become of yer. Oh, that 'a dreadful, that is!"

"It must be," answered Shelton.

"Ah! it is," the old man said; "and the winter cumin' on. I never was
much used to open air, bein' in domestic service all my life; but I don't
mind that so long as I can see my way to earn a livin'. Well, thank God!
I've got a job at last"; and his voice grew cheerful suddenly. "Sellin'
papers is not what I been accustomed to; but the Westminister, they tell
me that's one of the most respectable of the evenin' papers--in fact, I
know it is. So now I'm sure to get on; I try hard."

"How did you get the job?" asked Shelton.

"I 've got my character," the old fellow said, making a gesture with a
skinny hand towards his chest, as if it were there he kept his character.

"Thank God, nobody can't take that away! I never parts from that"; and
fumbling, he produced a packet, holding first one paper to the light, and
then another, and he looked anxiously at Shelton. "In that house where I
been sleepin' they're not honest; they 've stolen a parcel of my
things--a lovely shirt an' a pair of beautiful gloves a gentleman gave me
for holdin' of his hors