Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. “We do not want the men,” said Miss Miniver; “we do not want them, with their sneers and loud laughter. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. ‘That’s my pet name. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. ” Well, it was beyond dispute that these words did convey a certain quality of the Movements in general amid which Miss Miniver disported herself. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII.
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