A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. I beg that you will consider me your friend. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine.
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