Somehow the swaying of some dead branches of trees across the way brought back the picture with which she was familiar when she looked from their front window in December days at home.

She paused and wrung her little hands.
"What's the matter ?" said Drouet.
"Oh, I don't know," she said, her lip trembling.
He sensed something, and slipped his arm over her shoulder, patting her arm.
"Come on," he said gently, "you're all right." She turned to slip on her jacket.
"Better wear that boa about your throat to night." They walked north on Wabash to Adams Street and then west.

The lights in the stores were already shining out in gushes of golden hue.

The arc lights were sputtering overhead, and high up were the lighted windows of the tall office buildings.

The chill wind whipped in and out in gusty breaths.