At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. I came to the Beck’s house. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. All the same, I don’t admit it. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. I wonder what it was.
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