For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. ’ Thus adjured, but mindful of Trodger’s orders, the militiaman went down the hall backwards, his eyes fixed on the prisoner.
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