’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
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