" At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow. I ask you, although it is not my place to ask you, to return home. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. All of a sudden, there was movement behind him. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. 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. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. Damn! I’ve splashed.
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