CHAPTER XIV. There were no mourners. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. It’s no good flying out at that, Vee; I didn’t arrange it. ” Even in the glamour of Miss Brett’s assurance it seemed to Ann Veronica that this was, after all, no more than the gospel of Miss Miniver with a new set of resonances. “It is unimportant,” she said.
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