" "Mine is Howard Spurlock. ’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand. 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. It’s a mismatch. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. ’ ‘No, of course you could not,’ Gerald soothed.
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