"Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. “Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica. "Take me, then," replied the widow. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame.
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