“I love some one else. If it is that I am in the least French, and that you do not like it—’ ‘I don’t like it,’ snapped the old man. ” He started back as though he had been shot. ” She rose up. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. “What a hypocrite you are. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. CHAPTER XIV. ” Miss Miniver followed with an expression of perplexity, her mouth shaped to futile expositions.
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