"The poor things!" The manager laughed. But it is the truth. It is known that I am Melusine Charvill, which is also my right. 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. My agent is here, and he has brought his contract for me to sign. “There is no doubt whatever about that. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand.
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