Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. 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. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. . \" He leaned at a steeper pitch. Which is C?” Ann Veronica, with a curious sinking of the heart, regarded the black cavities of the vans. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. . She was carefree.
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