She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. She had never been so happy to vomit. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. ’ Tears sprang to Melusine’s own eyes, and she clasped the hand she held more tightly. She told you —the truth. Know that I love you, that I will always love you. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. The very facts that Miss Miniver never stated an argument clearly, that she was never embarrassed by a sense of self-contradiction, and had little more respect for consistency of statement than a washerwoman has for wisps of vapor, which made Ann Veronica critical and hostile at their first encounter in Morningside Park, became at last with constant association the secret of Miss Miniver’s growing influence. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity.
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