Norris Moore obediently sat on the chair, watching the young blond-haired and blue-eyed maid squeeze into the crowded supermarket.
Once the maid's figure disappeared, she stood up from the chair, took out sunglasses from her bag, put them on, and hurriedly headed out with her head down.
It takes forty-five minutes by taxi from the supermarket to the nearest Paddington Train Station.
She was lucky; she had just left the supermarket when she hailed a taxi. The air conditioning was on in the cab and Norris Moore got in and said, "Paddington."
She took the sunglasses off her face, holding them in her hands somewhat nervously.
The driver glanced over at her.
"What's up?" Norris felt his gaze and casually asked.
The driver, a young British man with a thin face, saw her look up and smiled slightly, asking in a London accent, "You look a lot like a celebrity."
Norris Moore was startled for a moment, then pulled the scarf around her neck up to cover her chin, "Really?"
