Two hours later her table in the stakes resembled an orderly polite tornado. No bent pages or rips, just haphazard placement like the tornado had another thought occur and needed a new magazine. A small notepad lay in the middle of the chaos covered in notes. The researcher looked around, ensuring she had privacy before duplicating the journals and placing the magical copies in her beaded bag. She stack the originals on the table for the librarian to re-shelf and left the library to head for the center of London.