” Nigel Ennison looked up with a little start. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. "I am, Charcoal. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed.
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