About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. ’ ‘What?’ gasped Alderley in shock. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument.
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