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. ‘I can’t do that. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. Little more’n a week.
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