ToC For a short space, Mrs. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. The ring's yours, and you're mine. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing.
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