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. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. "You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Quick, now. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open.
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