"Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. See paragraph 1. They walked side by side for a time. Once I banged on the door so hard I split it in two. 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. It is impossible.
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