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The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. 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. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. " "I have no people—anybody who would care. ” “But he recognized you,” the official objected. \"Oh. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position.
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