” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. 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. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Not wisely but too well. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be. Profoundly. \"No, what?\" She said. I felt somehow I’d hurt you.
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