Best assured of that. At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters.
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