“The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. . They’re too free for their innocence or too innocent for their freedom. We LIKED each other well enough. ” “You mean to say,” Anna said slowly, “that you are going to leave your husband?” “Yes. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. “When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. . . Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came.
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