There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. "The men. “Just look that through, will you. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. 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.
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