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Chapter 156 - 113 Why is it Always Hastings?
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... illy, the crowd of protesters was growing steadily.
Today’s weather in London was still dismal; after the morning, the sun’s face was veiled with a layer of haze.
Now, a cold, solemn drizzle began to fall.
The continual drip-dripping of raindrops on the brick-paved promenade produced mud from the cracks between the tiles, coating West London’s usually clean and orderly streets in a layer of grimy gloom.
A pair of nearly transparent square-toed shoes stomped solidl ...
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