” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. The opiate has done its duty. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air.
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