She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. “All right so far,” she said to herself. Miss Miniver said that if once she lost her faith in Tolstoy’s sincerity, nothing she felt would really matter much any more, and she appealed to Ann Veronica whether she did not feel the same; and Mr. The door closed softly upon her.
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