Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Now, she was the very reverse of all this.
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