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. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. His commissions this day would not fill his metal pipe with one wad of tobacco. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. His perseverance was amply rewarded.
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