Come along!" Susan looked helplessly round the street, saw nothing, not even eager, curious faces pressed against many a window pane, saw only a desolate waste.

Then she walked along beside her uncle, both of them silent, he carrying her bundle, she tightly clutching her little purse.
Perhaps the most amazing, the most stunning, of all the blows fate had thus suddenly showered upon her was this transformation of her uncle from gentleness to ferocity.

But many a far older and far wiser woman than seventeen-year-old Susan has failed to understand how it is with the man who does not regard woman as a fellow human being.

To such she is either an object of adoration, a quintessence of purity and innocence, or less than the dust, sheer filth.

Warham's anger was no gust.