"A storm!" exclaimed the landlord. "My lips would belie my heart were I to refuse you. 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. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost.
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