On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. And Miss Miniver began to sway her.
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