” “If you want anything,” he said, “or get into any trouble, wire me. " "It is false," cried Mrs. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. The carpenter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of the wind. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes.
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