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Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. gutenberg. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. ‘While we’re on the subject of age, it may be relevant to your claim to this house. I’ll give you, say, thirty-five guineas a week clear of expenses, and half of anything you earn above the two turns a night. The poor fellow's half smothered.
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