” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. For many of them it will smirch us forever. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. "I'll gibbet the rascal. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. It's too hard. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. “I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required.
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