"Hurrah! come along, Thames; we're free. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. Clergymen were human. 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.
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