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All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. It doesn't matter that you deal with black people. Apparently I’m not to exist yet. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. “Dear husband,” she murmured. The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. He would always be her friend, too. For an instant, Melusine watched him go.
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