She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. Ennison. He refused. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. And here's the proof. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner.
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