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. They laughed and talked and stared about them. ’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay.
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