A couple of half-drunken young men were feeding at this stall, and a girl of the streets was standing near them.

In the light of a swinging lamp the scene shone clearly in the surrounding darkness--the brass urn, the thick crockery, the head of the stall-keeper bent intently over a newspaper, the munching jaws of the customers, the girl in the background with splashes of crimson paint like blood on her white drawn face.
Charles was about to cross the street, but at that moment a policeman's helmet emerged slowly from the surrounding darkness as if irresistibly attracted by the concentric glow of the light.

At the sight of him Charles shrank back into the friendly shadow of his own side of the road.

The policeman emerged into the fulness of the light, serene in his official immobility.

His slow yet seeing vision dwelt on the painted girl with a gaze as penetrating as that of Omnipotence in its profound knowledge of evil.