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. “Well, because I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. “I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. O'Higgins," said the manager, amusedly. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. Her cheeks were aflame. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. In addition, the Fadden Dance business, all out of proportion, occupied the whole foreground of her thoughts and threw a color of rebellion over everything. It ought never to have begun.
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