Her stifled misery had betrayed her. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. .
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