’ Joan sniffed. He told her something about music, the great world outside. It’s all nonsense. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. ” “Men,” said Miss Miniver, “NEVER have a reason. ’ His friend held it out of the way.
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