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. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. " "I shall go mad myself if I listen to her longer," said Jack, attempting to rise. ‘I was not born to this. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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