Henry Lawson,
Triangles of Life, and other stories
(c.1916)
“ Along towards Shepperton, some hundred yards or so from the end hutch of the village, was the village beerhouse—"beer-shop" they call it in London (they call things by their names) —with a low door that you stumbled in through, on to sanded floors, and under a low dark old ceiling, with the inevitable great beam, anywhere but in the centre. ”
