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Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. They turned the corner that joined Michelle's street to her own. “How are you, Lucy?” Martin ran to catch her in the crowded hall.
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