The last time Pottiswick had called out the militia on suspicion of intruders in Remenham House, a large rodent had been all the spoil. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. " "So he is," returned Jack; "but there's no saying how long he may remain so. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. It was time to leave America.
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