” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. I know. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table.
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