It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. . As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. She picked up the hand cannon. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. .
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