She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. “In fact, yes, I do. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out.
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