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. ’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Thought she was a nun at first. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. "Yesh," replied Abraham. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once.
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