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” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee. All the world over a wedding procession arouses laughter and derision in the bystanders. M. His perseverance was amply rewarded. She could not run, her limbs were frozen. She interrupted. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself.
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