Gay. Imbecile. I knew where I would go next: Florence. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone. It was rumored that was one of the children who didn’t even take a Lunch period, his schedule was so overloaded. 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. —BRENDON.
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