She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. . Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn.
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