She had started wearing the dresses he bought for her, the white and blue shift he said, “brings out the color in your eyes”. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. They had not to tarry long. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. .
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