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Chapter 3. Home

           Sometimesafacewouldappearbehindthedingyglassofawindow,andwouldfadeawayintothegloomasifithadseenenoughoflifeandhadvanishedoutofit.Presentlytherainbegantofallinslantinglinesbetweenhimandthosehouses,andpeoplebegantocollectundercoverofthepublicpassageopposite,andtolookouthopelesslyattheskyastheraindroppedthickerandfaster.Thenwetumbrellasbegantoappear,draggledskirts,andmud.Whatthemudhadbeendoingwithitself,orwhereitcamefrom,whocouldsay?Butitseemedtocollectinamoment,asacrowdwill,andinfiveminutestohavesplashedallthesonsanddaughtersofAdam.Thelamplighterwasgoinghisroundsnow;andasthefieryjetssprangupunderhistouch,onemighthavefanciedthemastonishedatbeingsufferedtointroduceanyshowofbrightnessintosuchadismalscene.

           MrArthurClennamtookuphishatandbuttonedhiscoat,andwalkedout.Inthecountry,therainwouldhavedevelopedathousandfreshscents,andeverydropwouldhavehaditsbrightassociationwithsomebeautifulformofgrowthorlife.Inthecity,itdevelopedonlyfoulstalesmells,andwasasickly,lukewarm,dirt-stained,wretchedadditiontothegutters.

           HecrossedbyStPaul’sandwentdown,atalongangle,almosttothewater’sedge,throughsomeofthecrookedanddescendingstreetswhichlie(andlaymorecrookedlyandcloselythen)betweentheriverandCheapside.

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