" So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. She turned there and beckoned. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. These galleries were separated in the middle by iron grates. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again.
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