Bête, she told herself fiercely. I fought ten lions at once. ” “I thought every one knew. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. 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. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. " "We shall expect you to-morrow," insinuated Mrs.
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