“You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed.
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