” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. “Anna,” he said, “you make it all indescribably hard for me. 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. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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