Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. ‘But lay him down. “It is such a very respectable boarding-house,” she said. At any moment, Cathy Beck could arrive home and see them, then he would be eating dinner with 6 them, almost whether he liked it or not. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. 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.
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