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’ She struck her hands together. One cannot expect that soldiers can be sympathique to one they believe may be a French spy. Anna hailed a bus. The perfume was the only one she ever used. “What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. Mr. A nurse was at the other end of the room. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees.
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