” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. She cried and sobbed in fits. 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. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. Her arms and feet were uncovered, and of almost skeleton thinness.
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