It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. Lucy stepped inside. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall.
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