The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Lucy dug out an old light gray cotton miniskirt that had shrunk on Shari in the wash. Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. Winifred screamed.
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