‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. On the way he confessed. Jackson. 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. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do.
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