Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. Suddenly she understood. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. I’ve made no mention of guns and daggers or, indeed, any of the more exciting aspects of the business. ” Even in the glamour of Miss Brett’s assurance it seemed to Ann Veronica that this was, after all, no more than the gospel of Miss Miniver with a new set of resonances. It is just how things happen to be.
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