’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. 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. "Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter.
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