And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. "Ah! I see. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. 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. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. He can't be far off.
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