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I do not even know his name. Rowland," she added, in an altered tone, "I am certain I shall not live many days. Not enough of them to make a difference. My father thought the latter. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. 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. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 18-09-2024 20:43:17
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