” “I am not afraid,” she answered. Suddenly he understood what had happened. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. 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.
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