’ ‘No, miss,’ cut in Kimble. 5. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. 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. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink.
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