Hilary got up, perturbed.

The sight of that skipping was like the rays of a lantern turned on the dark street of another human being's life.

It revealed, as in a flash, the loneliness of this child, without money and without friends, in the midst of this great town.
The months of January, February, March passed, and the little model came daily to copy the "Book of Universal Brotherhood." Mr.Stone's room, for which he insisted on paying rent, was never entered by a servant.

It was on the ground-floor, and anyone passing the door between the hours of four and six could hear him dictating slowly, pausing now and then to spell a word.

In these two hours it appeared to be his custom to read out, for fair copying, the labours of the other seven.
At five o'clock there was invariably a sound of plates and cups, and out of it the little model's voice would rise, matter-of-fact, soft, monotoned, making little statements; and in turn Mr.Stone's, also making statements which clearly lacked cohesion with those of his young friend.