“You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. It was her job to keep the house as neat as a pin, up to the high standard that Sheila expected, being a nurse. Not these twenty year. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory.
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