She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. “Do you know why they are estranged?” Lucy asked. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. I followed you home on the train. She threw him his car keys. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them.
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