"Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. “My name is Anna Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. She could not realize what she saw.
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