Stevie, though apt to forget mere facts, such as his name and address for instance, had a faithful memory of sensations.

To be taken into a bed of compassion was the supreme remedy, with the only one disadvantage of being difficult of application on a large scale.

And looking at the cabman, Stevie perceived this clearly, because he was reasonable.
The cabman went on with his leisurely preparations as if Stevie had not existed.

He made as if to hoist himself on the box, but at the last moment from some obscure motive, perhaps merely from disgust with carriage exercise, desisted.

He approached instead the motionless partner of his labours, and stooping to seize the bridle, lifted up the big, weary head to the height of his shoulder with one effort of his right arm, like a feat of strength.
"Come on," he whispered secretly.
Limping, he led the cab away.