In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica to the darkness; “I’ll fight it. 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. “No. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. “Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know.
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