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Chapter 16 The Legacy Oh the girl. . .
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. She was my - she hesitated,as if she were about to say myself. But she remembered; and corrected herself. She was my great-grand-mother,she said. But tell us - what about the other man,the man who came round the corner.they asked. For Sissy Miller. Gilbert Clandon,taking up the pearl
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brooch that lay among a litter of rings and brooches on a little table in his wifes drawing-room,read the inscription: For Sissy Miller,with my love. Mrs. Ivimey opened her arms and closed them as if she were kissing someone. That man.Oh,that man,Mrs. Ivimey murmured,stooping to fumble with her cloak (the searchlight had left the balcony),he I suppose,vanished. She thrust something from her - the telescope presumably. She sat upright. It was the first time he had seen a man kiss a woman - in his telescope - miles and miles away across the moors! She stopped,as if she saw him. The searchlight had passed on. It was now focussed on the plain expanse of Buckingham Palace. And it was time they went on to the play. And then,and then . . . what did he do then.What did he
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say.And the girl . . .
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they pressed her. pon a dark mass of wood upon the horizon. He focussed it so that he could see . . .
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each tree
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. . . each tree separate . . . and the birds . . . rising and falling . . . and a stem of smoke . . . there . . . in the midst of the trees. . . . And then . . . lower . . . lower . . . (she lowered
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her eyes) . . . there was a house . . . a house among the trees . . . a farm-house . . . every brick showed . . . and the tubs on either side of
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the door . . .
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with flowers in them blue,pink,hydrangeas,perhaps. . . . She paused . . . And then a girl came out of the house
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. . . wearing something blue upon her head . . . and stood there .
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. . feeding birds . . . pigeons . . . they came fluttering round her. . . . And then . . . look . . . A man. . . . A man!He came round the corner. He seized her in his arms!They kissed . . . they kissed. A shaft of light fell upon Mrs. Ivimey as if someone had focussed the lens of a telescope upon her. (It was the air force,looking for enemy air craft.) She had risen. She had something blue on her head. She had raised her hand,as if she stood in a doorway,amazed. So he ran down the stairs. He ran through the fields. He ran down lanes,out upon the high road,through woods. He ran for miles and miles,and just when
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the stars were showing above the trees he reached the house . . . covered with dust,streaming with sweat. . . . . She turned to look for her cloak. It was on a chair behind her. It was like Angela to have remembered even Sissy Miller,her secretary. Yet how strange it was,Gilbert Clandon thought once more,that she had left everything in such order - a little gift of some sort for every one
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of her friends. It was as if she had foreseen her death. Yet she had been in perfect health when she left the house that morning,six weeks ago; when she stepped off the kerb in Piccadilly an The light,she added,gathering her things about her,only falls here and there.