” She went on, with a desperate attempt to be easy and colloquial: “You see, we were rather good friends, I thought, and now perhaps it will be difficult for us to get back to the old friendly footing. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter. Her mind went on generalizing. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. 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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