vagrants. Darkness has ceased to be the lawful
cloak of the unhappy; but Mother Night was soft and moonless, and man
had not despoiled her of her comfort, quite.

Shelton was not alone upon the seat, for at the far end was sitting
a young girl with a red, round, sullen face; and beyond, and further
still, were dim benches and dim figures sitting on them, as though
life's institutions had shot them out in an endless line of rubbish.

"Ah!" thought Shelton, in the dreamy way of tired people; "the
institutions are all right; it's the spirit that's all--"

"Wrong?" said a voice behind him; "why, of course! You've taken the
wrong turn, old man."

He saw a policeman, with a red face shining through the darkness,
talking to a strange old figure like some aged and dishevelled bird.

"Thank you, constable," the old man said, "as I've come wrong I'll take
a rest." Chewing his gums, he seemed to fear to take the liberty of
sitting down.

Shelton made room, and the old fellow took the vacant place.

"You'll excuse me, sir, I'm sure," he said in shaky tones, and snatching
at his battered hat; "I see you was a gentleman"--and lovingly he dwelt
upon the word--"would n't disturb you for the world. I'm not used to
being out at night, and the seats do get so full. Old age must lean on
something; you'll excuse me, sir, I 'm sure."

"Of course," said Shelton 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