CHAPTER XXXII. you walking home?\" 3 She paused, stunned. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. 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 may as well think.
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