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. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. It is no problem. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. Section 1. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face.
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