F. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. There is a place—This isn’t the place. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. You are very kind. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it.
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