It was fastened inside. 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. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. "Just in time," said the thief-taker. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin. ‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. They are all at prayer at this hour. " Thames complied. com/E21or The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ragged Edge, by Harold MacGrath This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.
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