In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. She noticed that this trunk was not littered with hotel labels. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest.
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