"I am sorry I troubled you," said Dr. Spenlove, hurt by the tone in which Mr. Moss spoke. "Good-night."
He was moving away, when Mr. Moss detained him.
"But look here, doctor, you're not fit to be tramping the streets in this storm; you ought to be snuggled up between the blankets. Come home with me, and Mrs. Moss shall make you a hot grog."
Dr. Spenlove shook his head, and passed on. Mr. Moss gazed at the retreating figure, his thoughts commingling.
"A charitable man, the good doctor, a large-hearted gentleman....
'Tardi si fa ahdio!
Ah! ti scongiuro invan.'
And poor as a church mouse. What woman is he running after? Mrs. Moss would give her a piece of her mind for taking out a baby on such a night.
'Notte d'amor, tutta splendor,
Begli astra d'oro.
O celeste voluttà!
Udir si, t'amo, t'adoro!'
Too bad to let him go alone, such a good fellow as he is; but Mrs. Moss will be waiting up for me.... She won't mind when I tell her.... I've a good mind to--yes, I will."
And after the doctor went Mr. Moss, and caught up to him.