"He does," replied Kneebone, "and, what is more surprising, it seems to increase. I never saw a man who wasn't. 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. She spoke slowly. And every day's experience proves that I was right. Ah, if I had written that!" "Don't you want to live?" "I don't know; I really don't know. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother.
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