There is no future for me here. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark.
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