After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. She gurgled.
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