"Mr. 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. He thought he heard a scraping sound as he turned the handle. He rested on one elbow. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot. ’ His friend held it out of the way.
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