" Jonathan made no answer, but snatching a torch from a bystander, jumped into the trench and commenced a diligent search. It was not a hopeful looking group. ” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. White, my landlady, believes his story. Wood in the deepest mourning. 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. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. The individual twist was always there, even in the cleverest forgeries.
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