There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. All of a sudden, there was movement behind him.
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