At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. Honestly, I never did. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. "Is it poison?" she asked. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. "There were some marks near the window; but whether recently made or not could not be ascertained," replied Winifred. Even now, my problems begin to catch up with me; they will discover me soon. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. 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.
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