” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. “You must pack for me. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience.
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