She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Ann Veronica sat back with a sigh of relief. ” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Gay," rejoined Jack. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. More,’ he said, ‘but I’m told it’s the most amusing thing in London at the present time. She is, in her way, a dear.
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