He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. You got to take the world as it is, and the only possible trade for a girl that isn’t sweated is to get hold of a man and make him do it for her. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished.
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