And, yet, I don't know. She had narrowly escaped Martin in Orchestra class, who had been wrapped up discussing a new piece of his with Mr. "Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them.
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