He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. 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. Hill lost a little of his truculency. PITT, the keeper of Newgate. I want to tell every one. ” Sir John breathed a long deep sigh. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment.
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