All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ’ ‘Comment?’ she demanded with some heat. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703. Kneebone. ” There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child. And now you know. ” She picked at her sandwich idly. ” Lucy said, already exhausted by her friend.
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