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. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard.
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