She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. He’ll survive. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known. 1. 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.
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