"What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. ” There was a long silence. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. ‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. "But I can guess what it's for. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. 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. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth.
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