What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. 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. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Too many. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties. “Here goes,” he said. Why not? Quite willing.
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