“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. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. Fetter Lane, on the left, Gray's Inn, on the right, added their supplies. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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