“We suspect that Mary is alive, and we think she will try to contact you if she ever tracks you down. I shall still believe in you. Wasn't the river beautiful under the moonlight?" "We did not leave our cabins. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope. 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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