She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. . ’ The things she said and did from you—seem impossible. ” Ann Veronica sat with her chin on her hand, red-lit and saying little, and Miss Miniver discoursed. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks.
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