Captain Roding strode into the parlour. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. ” He fell back in his chair with an expression of tremendous desolation.
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