“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. 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. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. Her eyes flashed. ” This made her even angrier, so she stopped speaking to him for a week. Only I do not care to write about anything else. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. The ward in which he was confined, was about six yards in length, and three in width, and in height, might be about twelve feet. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. Arrived at his habitation, Jonathan knocked in a peculiar manner at the door, which was instantly opened by the grim-visaged porter just alluded to.
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