She attacked his hair resolutely. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. His arms released from his 68 sides, he lifted them around her in a light embrace. 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. Yet I think that he will do it. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. . ” “I came here to talk reasonably, Mr.
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