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” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. You may have to carry them further and longer than you think. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. Wood. If individuality means anything it means breaking bounds— adventure. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm.
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