"Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. Look here. The tables were then cleared. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. .
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