The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. ” “Why?” she asked. 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. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. Dollis Hill revisited 324 XII.
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