‘Odd sort of a nun. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying.
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