“Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. . . But Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar.
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