‘He don’t mean you no harm. “My God!” and ceased to move. Dunstable’s contributions to the conversation were entirely in the form of nods; whenever Alderman Dunstable praised or blamed she nodded twice or thrice, according to the requirements of his emphasis. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail.
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