. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. He certainly bore inspection. It seemed to encapsulate the mosquito like a little piece of moonlight, it was talismanic to her. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. She pointed across the road. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. I've engaged to watch over you as a son, and I will do so as far as I'm able; but if you neglect my advice, what chance have I of benefitting you? On one point I've made up my mind—you shall either obey me, or leave me.
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