It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. “You won’t give me away, Anna.
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