If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. 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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