"The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. " The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. 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.
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