She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. 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. " "Help me, Jack!" shouted Thames, "or I shan't be able to keep the villain down. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. .
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