She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. "This must be prevented," he added to himself. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. . . After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. "Close the court, Mr. Kent say to it?" "He thinks so highly of it, that he says if he had a daughter he would give her to the artist," answered Gay, a little maliciously.
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