Good God, if only she could understand a little of what she meant to him, and how he craved and pined for her.
The dressmaker on the street floor of the rabbit warren had gone out of business.

Failed probably, poor thing.

Tootles had once said that the only people she ever saw in the shop were pressing creditors.

A colored woman of bulbous proportions and stertorous breathing was giving a catlick to the dirty stairway.

A smell of garlic and onions met Martin on his way to the rooms of Tootles' friend, and on the first landing he drew back to let two men pass down who looked like movie actors.