" Her island! How well he knew it, thought Spurlock, for all he lacked the name and whereabouts! Suddenly a new thought arose and buffeted him. \" He piped up. But one of these days everything will click back into place. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. 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. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem.
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