“No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. All right, I’m coming. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. Would to God I had. Nobody can anticipate your next move. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. I want to get away—to go to London. ’ Her breath tightened and she was obliged to control an inner ferocity.
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