The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed.
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