‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. To disillusion her, forthwith. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. It’s kind of the World War II thing. ‘And I’d like to know what the devil—’ ‘Out of town?’ repeated Melusine, stupefied. "I am.
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