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. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side.
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