" The girl fished into the bottle for an olive. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated.
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