“I don’t know, John. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. But a man is a mixed creature. \"Mike, don't call Lucy a liar. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. 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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