She entered and approached the bunk. It'll be turning over to-morrow. Heard voices. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. She would have to move on to a more lawless country soon, Mexico, Columbia, then cross the sea where she could eventually return to the chaos of Eastern Europe and the Russias. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due.
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