” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life.
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