She rang again with the same result. There was a case, or something, some years ago. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. It surprises you. 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.
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