" "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. “It’s a matter of feeling with me.
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