“Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. It isn’t illusions—for us. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. It was horrible. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. She fidgeted and looked away. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher.
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