Gumble handed him a straw hat and opened the door, and Siward cautiously descended the stoop, stood for a few moments on the sidewalk, looking up at the blue sky, then wheeled and slowly made his way toward Washington Square.

The avenue was deserted; his own house appeared to be the only remaining house still open in all that old-fashioned but respectable quarter.
He swung leisurely southward, a slim, well-built young fellow, strangely out of place on crutches.

The poor always looked at him; beggars never importuned him, yet found him agreeable to watch.

Children, who seldom look up into the air far enough to notice grown people, always became conscious of him when he passed; often smiled, sometimes spoke.

As for stray curs and tramp cats, they were for ever making advances.