“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. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. We shall have—hardly any money. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. “I believe that you are quite safe. ” “H’m!” said Ann Veronica, and shook her head.
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