Anna was unimpressed. 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. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. But here the resemblance stopped. Mr. ” She put on a short dress that was sky blue, with thick straps about the shoulders. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. “I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it’s the whole order of things—the whole blessed order of things.
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