” The dinner was admirable as a dinner; nothing went wrong, from the golden and excellent clear soup to the delightful iced marrons and cream; and Miss Stanley’s praises died away to an appreciative acquiescence. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. “Are you feeling okay?” “Just fine.
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