Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. I haven’t, anyhow. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame.
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