Yet she held her tongue. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. The island was snake-free. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small.
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