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She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. The investigators should have thought to check inside the garbage can. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it.
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