‘Certainly I am not a nun. Jolly nice girl, too. She comprehends what we're about. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and legal looking. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. " "That's well!" cried Jack. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar.
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