The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. If you could see how it gives them souls, women who have taken things for granted, who have given themselves up altogether to pettiness and vanity. ” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice.
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