‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. “You are going to treat me as though I wasn’t. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. " "I know not how it is," sighed Darrell, "but I feel an unaccountable misgiving at quitting this place. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face.
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