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"There is nothing," said Jane, "so depressing as an empty theatre."

In March it had been like midsummer. Now, in May, it was cold as November, and pouring with rain.

Porthkerris was a nest of lights, the curve of the harbour seemed strung with a necklace, and the riding lights of fishing boats were reflected in a maze of shimmering black and gold water.

He had never been talked into anything in his life.

The street would lead. . . out onto the harbour road, and it would be flood tide, the harbour full of grey sea and bobbing boats, and a heavy swell running out beyond the north pier. . . And there would be familiar smells--fish from the market, and hot saffron buns from the baker's; and all the little summer shops would be shuttered and closed for the season.

se me mojó entero de agua y no sabía por dónde iba xd