’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. He backed away from her. She always left the table when they began to smoke. ’ ‘Yes, well, I was too young to see it,’ the captain said, tying a knot in his makeshift bandage. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. She paused.
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