outside, the snow began to fall at an alarming rate.
huddled in the grimy doorway, roger valmont felt very unhappy,
he turned the collar of his ragged green coat up,
how had it come to this? he asked himself speculatively.
wet snow began to cover the glass in the doorway.
roger could no longer see the people in the street.
i am wasting my valuable time, he told himself despondently.
the door opened suddenly and roger was confronted by aldington.
aldington shook snow off his topcoat and glared at roger.
do you live here, fellow,? aldington demanded in his brusque manner.
aldington! do you not know me? roger cried out piteously.
aldington’s eyes retracted in the way roger remembred so well.
yes, of course, he murmured, what do you want now?
now! it has been at least thirty years, roger cried.
well, what is it that you want, after thirty yrars?
shelter from the storm, what else would i possibly want?
what could anyone possibly want? aldington muittered grimly to himself.
come on up then, he added, pointing to the stairs.
the elevator is broken, but the room is well furnished.
roger followed aldington up four flights of dimly lit stairs.
the room was indeed well furnished, and warm as well.
roger sat down on a shabby but soft oriental divan.
might i be offered a drink next, he mused hopefully.
not yet, for aldington had disappeared into an adjoining room.
roger heard aldington’s voice rising and falling, angry as ever.
outside the wind joined the snow in a fierce embrace.
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