behind the Laundromat. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. And what will they do, and where will they go?" "With me—the both of them. The phone did not ring.
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