“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket.
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