The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. I will have nothing to do with you. 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. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. “I do love you.
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