Presently McClintock came in. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. “Stop,” he said. Give me this picture. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. 176 “No, it’s very good. ’ ‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it is over and voilà tout. Yes, very well.
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