I reshelved the paper, stepped outside, and locked the door. Miss Mountjoy was still sitting idle at her desk when I returned the key.
“Did you find what you were looking for, dearie?” she asked.
“Yes, I said, making a great show of dusting off my hands.
“May I inquire further?” she asked coyly. “I might be able to direct you to related materials.”
Translation: She was perishing with nosiness.
“No, thank you, Miss Mountjoy,” I said.
Alan Bradley, Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (New York: Bantam Dell, 2009), ch. 5
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