"You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford's property?" pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight. “I wonder if you give me a thought. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid. She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. 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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