During the whole of the day snow had been falling, and during the whole of the day Dr. Spenlove had had but one meal. He did not complain; he had been accustomed to live from hand to mouth, and well knew what it was to go to bed hungry; and there was before him the prospect of brighter times. But cheering as was this prospect, his walk home through the falling snow was saddened by the scenes he had witnessed in the course of the day; and one especially dwelt in his mind. "Poor creature!" he mused. "What will become of her and her baby? O pitiless world! Does it not contain a single human being who will hold out a helping hand?" Before one of the poorest houses in one of the poorest streets he paused, and, admitting himself with a private latchkey, unlocked a door on the ground floor, and entered a room which faced the street. There was a wire blind to the window, on which was inscribed,-- CONSULTATIONS FROM 9 TILL 11 A.M. This room, with a communicating bedroom at the back, comprised his professional and private residence. Dr. Spenlove groped in the dark for the matches, and, lighting a candle, applied a match to a fire laid with scrupulous economy in the matter of coals. As he was thus employed, his landlady knocked at the door and entered. "Is it you, Mrs. Radcliffe?" he asked, not turning his head. "Yes, sir. Let me do that, please." The paper he had lit in the grate was smouldering away without kindling the wood; the landlady knelt down, and with a skilful touch the flame leapt up. Dr. Spenlove, unbuttoning his thin coat, spread out his hands to the warmth. "Any callers, Mrs. Radcliffe?" "A gentleman, sir, who seemed very anxious to see you. He did not leave his name or card, but said he would call again this evening." "Did he mention the hour?" "Nine, sir." Dr. Spenlove put his hand to his waistcoat pocket, and quickly withdrew it, with a smile of humour and self-pity. The landlady noticed the action, and dolefully shook her head. "Very anxious to see me, you say, Mrs. Radcliffe." "Very anxious indeed, sir. Dear, dear, you're wet through!" "It is a bitter night," he said, coughing. "You may well say that, sir. Bad weather for you to be out, with that nasty cough of yours." "There are many people worse off than I am, without either fire or food." "We all have our trials, sir. It's a hard world." "Indeed, indeed!" he said, thinking of the female patient whom he had last visited. "Where's your overcoat, sir? I'll take it down to the kitchen; it'll dry sooner there." She looked around in vain for it. "Never mind my overcoat, Mrs. Radcliffe." "But you had it on when you went out, sir?" "Did I? Don't trouble about it. It will dry quickly enough where it is."