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" And, with a few magical touches, he stamped the fleeting expression on the canvass. 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. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock. Upon reading the name, the doctor's eyebrows went up. Murder had become nothing to her. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge.
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