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. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. Howard Spurlock. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. Someone ought to be with him until the doctor arrives. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. Mr.
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