This done, he sank down in an arm-chair before the fire, and ran the poker wearily through his hair.
I could not help pitying him.
The wind howled dismally without, and the rain beat furiously against the windows.

I crept toward him and seated myself on a low stool beside his chair.
Presently he turned, without seeing me, and placed his foot absently in my lap.

I affected not to notice it.

But he started and looked down.
"You here yet--Carrothead?
Ah, I forgot.

Do you speak French ?" "Oui, Monsieur." "Taisez-vous!" he said sharply, with singular purity of accent.