“I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. ” “I realize I can’t see my mom or brother again. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute.
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