“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Maggot held up a lantern, which she found in the shop. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Wood's present position, and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. Or appeared to do so. ‘Ah, the tragedy. He was looking pale and ill.
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