"'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. "I'm sorry," she said. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Section 1.
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