Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. “Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Very central in Miss Miniver’s universe were the Goopes. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. “Here goes,” he said. “Her ladyship dined at home,” the man answered. He cannot. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy.
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