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. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. He had said so. “Mr.
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