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. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. "What would you like most in this world?" he asked. " "And partly what else?" "I shall never tell anybody that. Remember?’ ‘Parbleu,’ came from his still struggling victim. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home.
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