They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders.
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