“You poor thing. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. The game lasted until 7:13. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room.
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