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Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. "I have," replied Jonathan. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. 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. Listen to me, Thames. " While he was thus musing, he fancied he heard the lock tried.

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