But Miss Miniver was highly unsatisfactory. As much as it killed her, she kept her mouth shut. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered.
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