“You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. Neither the American Express nor Cook's had received mail for Howard Taber; he was not on either list. Sir John stood upon the threshold.
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