She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. "You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," observed the thief-taker. Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear.
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