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“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. Not if I read her aright. "I see him!—row for your life!" "That's the way to miss him, master," replied Ben coolly. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song.
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