Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. ‘Who have lately joined us,’ she said, adding sotto voce, ‘A very great tragedy. Wood was once a favourite of yours. Of course, I can't promise you the job definitely. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. You understand. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being.
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