The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. It was the bitterest moment of her life. He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. Never mind. You don’t want to look like Bozo. His last actions were futile.
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