” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. 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. She felt she must suffocate if these men did not put her down, and for a time they would not put her down. Cast off this weakness. I have no right to love you.
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