“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. The poison from the teeth radiated from her shoulder and paralyzed her limbs. She acted as her mother had taught her to. We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda.
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