There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “No reason. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. ” Sir John looked at her sideways. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically.
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