She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. ” Annabel gave a little gasp. Those who lived outside the law might squabble among themselves, even unto death, Leonardo told her. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. 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. I saw them both.
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