The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. He was followed with equal celerity by Terence and the widow. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. V.
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