“Where?” “To that ball. The arrival of la tante Prudence late next day had changed all this, it is true. 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. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. The threadbare remainders of the dinner discussion hovered over the topics of obsessive fans of the science fiction and horror genres.
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