” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. Never had he been so intrigued. When he recovered his mental faculties, he would lie there, neutral; they could save him or let him die, as they pleased; and the doctor knew that he would wear himself out forcing his own will to live into this neutrality. It’s not you—not a bit. Very central in Miss Miniver’s universe were the Goopes. They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before.
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