There are way-stations—even terminals. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Could it be him you mean?" "No. Wood the carpenter. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. . They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. A young man was playing the banjo. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees.
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