The stillness
and orderliness of his handsome apartment was suddenly irritating. It
seemed a piece of mechanism made to go so smoothly and noiselessly
that every element of humanness was lacking in it; and with something
of a shiver he turned down the street and in the direction opposite to
that wherein he lived. The child's eyes had stirred memories that must
be kept down; and she was right. He was a poor man. He had a house,
but no home, and he had no Christmas presents to buy.
CHAPTER V
"Mr. Van! Mr. Van!"
He turned quickly. Behind, his new-made acquaintance was making effort
to run, but to run and still hold the hand of her father was
difficult. With a smile he stopped.
"Oh, Mr. Van!" The words came breathlessly. "I was so afraid we would
lose you! Father can't cross quick, and once I couldn't see you. Here
he is, Father." She took Van Landing's hand and laid it in her
father's. "He can tell by hands," she said, "whether you're a nice
person or not. I told him you didn't have anybody, and--"
Van Landing's hand for a moment lay in the stranger's, then he shook
the latter's warmly and again raised his hat.
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