It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. But I'd a mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended. ” It came upon him like a flash. But Miss Miniver was highly unsatisfactory. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you.
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