“Let’s go home. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. 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. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed.
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