Perhaps it was the unspeakable anguish of
those features that appealed to the starving man's sympathy, and he
came to an uncertain halt at the doorway and stared rudely upon the
stranger. At first the man did not notice him, seeming to look straight
out into the street with a curious fixity of expression, and the
death-like pallor of his face sent a chill through Carringer's limbs,
chilled nigh to stone though they were already.
The stranger caught sight of him at last. "Ah," he said slowly, and
with peculiar clearness, "the rain has caught you too, without overcoat
or umbrella. Stand in this doorway--there is room for two."
The voice was not unkind, though it sounded strangely harsh. It was the
first word that had been addressed to Carringer since hunger possessed
him, and to be spoken to at all gave him cheer. So he took his place in
the doorway beside the mysterious stranger, who at once relapsed into
his fixed gaze at nothingness across the street.
"It may rain for a long time," he said presently, stirring himself. "I
am cold, and I can feel you trembling and shivering.
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