It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. Even if you pretend sometimes to be without sense. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it.
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