Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. All the rest of our lives would be together then, Ann Veronica. “Glorious! You’re so calm, dear, and so resolute, so serene! “It’s girls like you who will show them what We are,” said Miss Miniver; “girls whose spirits have not been broken!” Ann Veronica sunned herself a little in this warmth. .
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