” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. The phone did not ring. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. I could never make you understand.
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