” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. 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. "He has been indefatigable in his search," continued Winifred, "and has even journeyed to Manchester. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. So he marched into the street, primarily bent upon making the favourable discovery.
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