seemed all that was lovely, young, and pure; and her hair, old gold in
the shadow and pale gold where the lamp struck it, was to Donnegan like
a miraculous light about her face.

Indeed, that little pause was a great and awful moment. For considering
that Donnegan, who had gone through his whole life with his eyes ready
either to mock or hate, and who had rarely used his hand except to make
a fist of it; Donnegan who had never, so far as is known, had a
companion; who had asked the world for action, not kindness; this
Donnegan now stood straight with his back against the wall, and poured
out the story of his wayward life to a mere slip of a girl.




6


Even the old woman, whose eyes were sharpened by her habit of looking
constantly for the weaknesses and vices of men, could not guess what was
going on behind the thin, rather ugly face of Donnegan; the girl,
perhaps, may have seen more. For she caught the glitter of his active
eyes even at that distance. The hag began to explain with vicious
gestures that set the light flaring up and down.

"He ain't come from nowhere, Lou," she said. "He ain't going nowhere; he
wants to stay here for the night."

The foot which had been suspended to take the next step was now
withdrawn. Donnegan, remembered at last, whipped off his cap, and at