“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. 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. It was said, that he received an affront from James, in the shape of a public reprimand, which his pride could not forgive. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house.
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