“Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. Yes, there was someone there. Besides, he might hear things. Gerald sighed. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection.
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