A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. “He and I don’t seem to get on at all with our fellow-guests, as Mrs. 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. Or else he was indeed obsessed. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. I wanted you to know. He drew a little sigh of relief. I am so amazed to see you here. And then her pace slackened. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you.
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