” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out.
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