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But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. “Nor am I now,” he answered. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. She felt that she was not alone. And—the idea of committees, of hustings, of agenda-papers!” “I don’t see why the responsibility of beauty should all be shifted on to the women,” said Ann Veronica, suddenly remembering a part of Miss Miniver’s discourse.
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