Certainly I never met him. Bird,—who was rushing up stairs, alarmed by Mr. “What can you do?” she asked. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. But he did not follow on with the thought. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. . 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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