Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DARKE DARRELL. CHAPTER I. AN ERRING HUSBAND. Master Darke Darrell pushed open the door, then paused _ to shake the snow from his cap into the dark, carpetless hall behind him. It was ten o’clock at night. The room was dimly lighted. I'he snow was piled on the outside window ledge, and ob- scured the lower panes. By the stove, and in an arm-chair, and wrapped in shawls, shivered a woman of about forty years of age, with sallow cheeks, feverish eyes, and pallid lips. The hands which drew the shawls closer to her, at sight and sound of the opening door, were wasted and white—so white that almost‘: every blue vein could have been counted. The boy saw the movement, and hurriedly closed the door; then he crossed the room on tiptoe, a half sad, half sullen look on his face, which was not habitual to it. He was sixteen years old, but did not seem to be more than twelve, he was so diminutive. | He was not dwarfed, but well-formed and bright-faced, with strength in his muscles, energy in his will, quick- dis- cernthent in eye and brain. He was poorly clad, yet not in GComicbooks.G