What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. Annabel shook her head. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know.
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