“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. It fell with a clatter to the floor. “My God!” he said again. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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