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. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. “Yeah, where the hell were you? My friends would have driven you home when I came home if I could have found you. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl.
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