“Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. ” He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. She missed them already. The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not tell how or why. She will not confide in me. 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.
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