The Loom of Destiny
blanket over him. At first he was tempted to cover him, head and all, in case he might cry. But that, he saw, was a compromise, and he decided otherwise.
Then he opened the door and took one last look at the dingy room, and the walls that had hidden so long his life's disgrace. Once more he sighed!
In another moment the Rubicon was crossed, and the uncouth little baby-carriage was on the sidewalk.
Outside, buildings and street seemed to reel and stagger drunkenly together. For, as he had expected, Mrs. Reilly had not been idle. Somewhere or other he had once heard that he who lives by the sword must die by the sword. As a fighting man he asked no favours. She was his enemy, and if she had got within his guard, why, it was only a part of the game, after all! But it was a hard game.
A thousand curious eyes, it seemed, were staring impertinently at him. Every door along the street was open and filled with waiting faces. On each face was a sinister,
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