Oneeveningwhenhewasrecoveringfromalongdebauchthestrangercamereelingalongthemainstreetofthetown。TomHardsatinachairbeforetheNewWillardHousewithhisdaughter，thenachildoffive，onhisknees。BesidehimontheboardsidewalksatyoungGeorgeWillard。Thestrangerdroppedintoachairbesidethem。Hisbodyshookandwhenhetriedtotalkhisvoicetrembled。
Itwaslateeveninganddarknesslayoverthetownandovertherailroadthatranalongthefootofalittleinclinebeforethehotel。Somewhereinthedistance，offtothewest，therewasaprolongedblastfromthewhistleofapassengerengine。Adogthathadbeensleepingintheroadwayaroseandbarked。
Thestrangerbegantobabbleandmadeaprophecyconcerningthechildthatlayinthearmsoftheagnostic。
\"Icameheretoquitdrinking，\"hesaid，andtearsbegantorundownhischeeks。HedidnotlookatTomHard，butleanedforwardandstaredintothedarknessasthoughseeingavision。\"Iranawaytothecountrytobecured，butIamnotcured。Thereisareason。\"Heturnedtolookatthechildwhosatupverystraightonherfather\'skneeandreturnedthelook。
ThestrangertouchedTomHardonthearm。