‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. He jumped back, cursing. The air was thick with feelings. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door.
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