Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. “Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. 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. She could not bear the shame of it.
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