and Mrs. 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. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. ‘I thought as how it couldn’t do no harm, and as it turns out, it done me a bit of good. But no more of that. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. This is your room. .
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