She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. \"Actually, John, I really must get going. ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. That’s how it takes me. He had heard nothing.
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