Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one these noble trees, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. She had called the police on them anonymously.
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