“Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. 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. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock.
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