Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. ” “Shall we go now?” “I think I would like to listen to music. CHAPTER XXVIII. . Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. “Does Mr. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress.
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