Annabel shook her head. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. All my life I've had to fight human wolves to hold what I have. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own.
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