She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Lucy dug out an old light gray cotton miniskirt that had shrunk on Shari in the wash. My arm's nearly well again. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently.
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