Take your half loaf with the others. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. They were hailed as celebrities, the three of them. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. ’ ‘You know, Gerald,’ Lucilla put in thoughtfully, forestalling a withering rejoinder from the captain, ‘there may be something in that. People running, screaming, hiding.
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