CHAPTER XXI. “That’s a weird name. 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. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. . The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world.
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