" Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. I don’t see what you can have to say. ” John said to Lucy. “Oh, you know,” she said.
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