“I feared we might have a fog. CHAPTER XVI. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. I can't concentrate on my work. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. The very facts that Miss Miniver never stated an argument clearly, that she was never embarrassed by a sense of self-contradiction, and had little more respect for consistency of statement than a washerwoman has for wisps of vapor, which made Ann Veronica critical and hostile at their first encounter in Morningside Park, became at last with constant association the secret of Miss Miniver’s growing influence. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that.
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