The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. ‘No, but I seen the light, sir. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation.
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