His first impulse was to spring to meet him, as he would have done in old times.

His whole heart yearned towards him.
It was six weeks now since Eric had seen one loving face, and during all that time he had hardly heard one kindly word.

And now he saw before him the boy whom he loved so fondly, with whom he had spent so many happy hours of school-boy friendship, with whom he had gone through so many schoolboy adventures, and who, he believed, loved him fondly still.
Forgetful for the moment of his condition, Eric moved across the street.
Wildney was walking with his cousin, a beautiful girl, some four years older than himself, whom he was evidently patronising immensely.

They were talking very merrily, and Eric overheard the word Roslyn.

Like a lightning-flash the memory of the theft, the memory of his ruin came upon him; he looked down at his dress--it was a coarse blue shirt, which Roberts had given him in place of his old one, and the back of it was stained and saturated with blood from his unhealed wounds; his trousers were dirty, tarred, and ragged, and his shoes, full of holes, barely covered his feet.