They’ll know. Thanksgiving Day morning, Shari woke Lucy a half an hour before the sounding of the alarm. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. “The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the common people, all pressing forward, all roused. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. His eyes never left her face. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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