" "I'd rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to you for my freedom," returned Thames. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. 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. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales.
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