“How old are you?” “Sixteen. 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. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. ’ He paused, but Melusine caught the inference. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours.
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