These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. I am a man—of a sort of experience. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. And it's uncanny. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you.
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