They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. 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. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. ’ ‘Very good, ma’am. I am not going to be a chorus girl, or even a super. . To O'Higgins—for all his sordid business he was not insensible to beauty—to O'Higgins she appeared to have entered the room with the light. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices.
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