The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. You will forgive my remarking, Anna, that I consider there is a great change in your manner towards me and your general deportment since our marriage. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. 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. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. They did not want her.
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