” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. 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. Better come another morning. Wood, contemptuously. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time.
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