Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. “Who can tell?” she said. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green.
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