” “I thought I was old enough,” she gasped, between laughter and crying. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark.
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