" "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. 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. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. " "Do not distress him, dear father," said Winifred; "he suffers deeply. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. The theme was a masquerade. I wish they would just get it over with. ” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly.
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