"What is a sing-song girl?" she asked. " "Or the flat stones in the meadows, teeming with life underneath. I can't concentrate on my work. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. “That’s it,” she said. In a sense I don’t care. So he marched into the street, primarily bent upon making the favourable discovery. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage.
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