Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. "To be sure," returned Wild; "he's not only alive, but likely for life, if we don't clip the thread. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. Why open my mouth if there might not be a need for it when all’s said?’ Melusine acknowledged the logic of this. 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. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years.
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