“For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. ” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee. “Come,” she said. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed.
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