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Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. Figg," said Jack. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee.
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