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" Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. There were lines in her face that age had not put there. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. “We do not want the men,” said Miss Miniver; “we do not want them, with their sneers and loud laughter. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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