" Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. Spurling. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. “Just fine.
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