They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. I'll keep it for your sake. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs.
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