She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop.
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