He had already noted how he hurried over the empty spaces of pavement
and lingered sinuously in the thronged parts; he now remarked further
that those who came into immediate contact with him (and they were
mostly young people who were to be met with at that season of the night)
glanced sharply at him, as if they had experienced some suspicious
sensation, and seemed inclined to remonstrate, till they looked in his
face.
Lefevre could not arrive at a clear front view till, by Charing Cross
Station, the man turned on the kerb to look after a handsome youth who
crossed before him, and passed over the road. Then the doctor saw the
face in the light of a street-lamp, and the sight sent the blood in a
gush from his heart. It was a dark hairless face, terribly blanched and
emaciated, as if by years of darkness and prison, with the impress of
age and death, but yet with a wistful light in the eyes, and a firm
sensuousness about the mouth that betrayed a considerable interest in
life. He turned his eyes away an instant, to bring memory and
association to bear.
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