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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. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him.
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