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. ” She interrupted as Ann Veronica was about to speak again, with a bright contagious hopefulness. I'm about to ring for supper. Think how free that leaves me to follow things up! I must take you everywhere. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Makes you real. ‘But tell me this instead.
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