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. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. Mischief bubbled up in her. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes.
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