"Once for all, I shall go. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “I have made no arrangements as yet— none at all. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. .
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