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That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. They were a young man and an old one, and both appeared deeply affected. Good night. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. What you said wanted saying. About them quickly. But, let's see the prisoner. ” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver.
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