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He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. “Everybody is taking it up,” said Miss Miniver. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help.
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