Lyra. Chapter 3. The Way Out
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The lamp had burned down to almost nothing, and that was as good a reason as any. He rose and went to the door — a man does not stay, not in a woman's house, not past dark — and there he stopped. He did not look back at her, quite. He looked out at the blue evening instead, the way a man looks at a road he is not walking tonight. Behind him she watched him go and said nothing. Some doors you leave open on purpose.
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