She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. 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.
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