“Since last night. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father.
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