Her laugh would have made an angel shiver.
A policeman came along, and stood for a little while looking at the prostrate woman.
"It's Mother Hewitt," said one of the bystanders.
"Here, Dick," and the policeman spoke to a man near him.

"Take hold of her feet." The man did as told, and the policeman lifting the woman's head and shoulders, they carried her a short distance, to where a gate opened into a large yard used for putting in carts and wagons at night, and deposited her on the ground just inside.
"She can sleep it off there," said the policeman as he dropped his unseemly load.

"She'll have a-plenty to keep her company before morning." And so they left her without covering or shelter in the wet and chilly air of a late November night, drunk and asleep.
As the little crowd gathered by this ripple of excitement melted away, a single figure remained lurking in a corner of the yard and out of sight in its dark shadow.

It was that of a man.

The moment he was alone with the unconscious woman he glided toward her with the alert movements of an animal, and with a quickness that made his work seem instant, rifled her pockets.