"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. She directed the little old woman and then made her way to van D. What would he come as? Presently she roused herself with a guilty start from the task of dressing and re-dressing Mr. “Odd!” she said. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs.
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