‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Sebastianus gave Marina tonics and barred Lucia from touching her mother, who yelled in her Gypsy tongue at Lucia to stay away, save the baby.
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