“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. "I've done all I can to the portrait here. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken.
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