Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. 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. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work. ” Part 6 In the afternoon she resumed her search for apartments. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. Ask your own conscience.
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