While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. She floundered deep. At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows.
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