I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. They had always gone without because of their secret lifestyle. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over.
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