If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. 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. He jumped back, cursing.
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