Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. He looked down and met them. 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. Let us walk about. Say you will never forget! That these common things and secondary things sha’n’t overwhelm us. It is impossible.
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