Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. Night and day have been alike to me. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his.
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