“I will go,” he said. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts. A sob was strangled in her throat. Good night. She would ignore him. They did not have to wait long. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat.
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