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“Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. “I don’t want to take up your time. You don’t know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the— the other side of the line is Hell. Let me say it to you. ” “No doubt. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind.
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