Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. He was now almost driven to despair. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought.
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