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 shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. The water was cold but she waded deeper. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles.
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