The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. “I really owe him something of an apology. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina.
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