" "Heaven help her!" sighed Jack. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. ’ He smiled down at her. 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. Lucy turned and faced the strawberry blonde behind her, gesturing rapidly with a folded origami triangle, evidently the newest form of note. Quite ordinary.
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