In all that overcrowded house there was only one place where I
could be miserable with comfort. So I stayed on the roof, and
cried a little and then became angry and walked up and down, and
clenched my hands and babbled helplessly. The boats on the river
were yellow, horizontal streaks through my tears, and an early
searchlight sent its shaft like a tangible thing in the darkness,
just over my head. Then, finally, I curled down in a corner with
my arms on the parapet, and the lights became more and more
prismatic and finally formed themselves into a circle that was
Bella's bracelet, and that kept whirling around and around on
something flat and not over-clean, that was Flannigan's palm.



Chapter X. ON THE STAIRS

I was roused by someone walking across the roof, the cracking of
tin under feet, and a comfortable and companionable odor of
tobacco. I moved a very little, and then I saw that it was a
man--the height and erectness told me which man. And just at that
instant he saw me.

"Good Lord!" he ejaculated, and throwing his cigar away he came
across quickly. "Why, Mrs. Wilson, what in the world are you
doing here? I thought--they said--"

"That I was sulking again?" I finished disagreeably. "Perhaps I
am. In fact, I'm quite sure of it."