” Hill closed his eyes. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. ‘It is the life I know. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. What was the matter with Spurlock that was to keep him in bed three or four weeks? He would dig that out of the hotel manager. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. Do sit down, dear boy. Now I’d like the rest of your story. Now I do. That’s— that’s my private life. 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.
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