There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. 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. She must not show anything. . I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. ” “I’m so glad you’ll go. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her.
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