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. “Come on. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. " "Do so," replied Kneebone; "but remember the door is locked.
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