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. I keep on thinking of you. org. Wood, popping her head through the window. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. Then abruptly Mr. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things.
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