“Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The truth at once flashed across his mind. What was his problem, she thought to herself. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. ‘I broke in. ’ ‘People are silly. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. “Lucy Albert. . You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice.
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