” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. He returned the locket without comment. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. Look at me. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. “I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it’s the whole order of things—the whole blessed order of things.
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