"He stands before you," rejoined her son. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. ” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute.
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