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. “Don’t let them know I’m here. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot.
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