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There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. ’ ‘In a somewhat roundabout fashion, if you ask me,’ came in a mutter from her old nurse, very much in her usual style. “I’ll get dressed. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. ‘Parbleu, is this a moment to be out of town? What is the matter with him that he is out of town when I need him?’ ‘Famous!’ uttered a new voice from the doorway. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style.
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