She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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