Then he apparently changed his mind, muttered a good-night and disappeared round the corner of the building.
Olva was alone in the Court.

From some room came the sound of voices and laughter, from some other room a piano--some one called a name in Little Court.

A sheet of stars drew the white light from the snow to heaven.
Olva turned very slowly and entered his black stairway.
In his heart he was crying, "How long can I stand this?
Another day?
Another hour?
This loneliness.

.

.