Had his poor dazed brain accepted it as some sign of the glorious appearing for which he waited?
Trenholme looked again at his companion.

It mattered nothing to him who or what he was; he would have done much to still that pleading voice and pacify him, but since he could not do this, he would go for a little while out of sight and hearing.

He was fast growing numb with the fierce cold.

He would come back and renew his care, but just now he would go home.

He walked fast, and gained his own door with blood that ran less chill.
He heaped his stove with fresh logs, and set on food to warm, in the hope that the stranger might eventually partake of it, and then, opening the stove door to get the full benefit of the blaze, he sat down for a little while to warm himself.