" Roused by this reflection, filled with the deepest anxiety for his mother, and burning to be avenged upon Jonathan Wild, he grasped the iron bar, which, when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across the room. CHAPTER XXIII. 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. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. ” Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. She was shifting, moving back. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. “Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you,” he said.
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