“Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. None this end. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. ” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee.
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