Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. ’ He thought a wary look came into her face, but it was difficult to be sure. “She is marvellously clever,” he said. ” “We will,” said Miss Miniver, refusing to be suppressed, “if some of us have to be killed to get it. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. " "I wonder where the deuce I'll be able to get some writing paper? I'm crazy to get to work again. ’ A twinkle crept into Mrs Sindlesham’s eye. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. ‘Not kill me, I mean. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary.
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