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Too late, Maggie realized she was heading straight into a part of the city she had never seen before. There was no way she could correct her error. The museum guard plodded noisily after her. She tore around the nearest corner, raced down the block, turned right, and kept running. She ran alongside the Seine until she saw a bridge. Without a second's hesitation, she raced across it, bouncing off a group of startled merrymakers. On the other side, Maggie fought down the panic welling up in her throat. Where was she? A quick look back told her the guard was only a block behind, still pounding after her. A place to hide--that's what she needed. She rounded another corner, and spotted the iron gratings of closed shops and a painted Boulangerie sign above a blank window. She had instinctively taken a route that had circled toward home! She had to find a place to hide fast, before dead-ending herself in her own backyard. Intent more than ever on searching for a refuge, Maggie didn't see the little old lady until she crashed into her cart.
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