Then, suddenly, he realized that some one was speaking to him. The voice was a woman's, low-pitched, a little imperious, the voice of one not accustomed to be kept waiting.
"Will you please move and let me ring this door-bell?"
Gunner Criswell sprang to his feet. He did not like to acknowledge his infirmity; it seemed always like bidding for sympathy. But now the words rushed from him, words than which there are none more heartrending.
"Madam, forgive me! I am blind."
A perceptible interval passed before the woman answered. Once Gunner Criswell thought she had gone away.
Instead she was staring at him, her heart throbbing. She laid her hand on his arm.
"Why do you sit here on the steps? Have you no place to stay?"
Gunner Criswell told her about Carolus.
"You must come to my house," she invited.
Gunner Criswell explained that he could not leave his friend. "He would be worried if he couldn't find me. He"—Gunner Criswell turned his head, then he smiled—"he is coming now. I can hear him."