She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Take me to the Stone Room. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife. ’ Hilary’s gaze was raking the room. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. 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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