‘All this gadding about. 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. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. The gentleman catched him i' th' fact, and we shut him up for safety i' that pris'n.
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