He took it from her with reluctance, pushed his arms into it and drew it over his head and shoulders.
“Thank you!” he said in a quiet voice. “I was sick and in prison––I was anhungered––I was thirsty––I was naked. I don’t know exactly how it goes,” he apologised, “but it is something like that and it certainly does apply to you, miss.”
His mood changed. He turned up part of the sleeve of the sweater and put it to his lips.
Eileen’s face took on a flood of colour despite herself.
A smile flitted across the unshaven face of the man, disclosing his regular, clean teeth.
Eileen drew herself up stiffly.
She went to the door and opened it to allow him to pass out of her life as he had come into it. But as he turned to go, he started back at a sound in the dark.
The tall, athletic figure of a man loomed up, blocked the way and stepped into the kitchen beside them.
Eileen gasped and clutched at her bosom in terror.