"Get ready your heaviest irons, Austin. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. ’ ‘Even if they militiamen weren’t there, miss,’ cautioned her cavalier, ‘you couldn’t go marching into the house open like. ” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice. She wanted to kiss his feet.
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