'Will you give me a cup of coffee?' asked the stranger, in a low
voice and with shamefaced manner. 'It would be a great kindness.'
The accent was that of good breeding. Yule hesitated in surprise
for a moment, then said:
'Have one by all means. Would you care for anything to eat?'
'I am much obliged to you. I think I should be none the worse for
one of those solid slices of bread and butter.'
The stall-keeper was just extinguishing his lights; the frosty
sky showed a pale gleam of sunrise.
'Hard times, I'm afraid,' remarked Yule, as his beneficiary began
to eat the luncheon with much appearance of grateful appetite.
'Very hard times.' He had a small, thin, colourless countenance,
with large, pathetic eyes; a slight moustache and curly beard.
His clothes were such as would be worn by some very poor clerk.
'I came here an hour ago,' he continued, 'with the hope of
meeting an acquaintance who generally goes from this station at a
certain time. I have missed him, and in doing so I missed what I
had thought my one chance of a breakfast. When one has neither
dined nor supped on the previous day, breakfast becomes a meal of
some importance.
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