Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. "My sister the wife of one condemned felon! the parent of another! It cannot be. I can’t forget about your sister. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. I know. 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. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. \"Well, to tell you the truth, John Diedermayer.
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