Sebastian observed coolly, savoring the outline of Lucy’s feral figure hunching over Michelle’s gradually diminishing body. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. 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. She picked up the hand cannon. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. It was a mass of knick-knacks.
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