Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Do sit down, dear boy. " "Then you're heartily welcome, Sir, whoever you are. ” “Sounds good. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were.
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