A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. ’ ‘But that would make her half French,’ Hilary pointed out. Luck. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present.
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