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 was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Just my room. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance.
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