"You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. The inn was a military haunt. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected.
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