” “I didn’t understand—your idea of making love. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. out of the ten or twelve people one meets in a month not only say but feel and assume a thing, it is very hard not to fall into the belief that the thing is so. Little more’n a week. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica.
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