” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care. I hate this part of the world. Many of the soldiers dismounted, and called for drink. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. “Lucy? Ms. “Just seems like a nice place to get away to, especially since it seems to attract pretty girls. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness.
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