Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. 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've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 08-06-2024 00:55:59
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