If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. ” She found her muscles a-tremble. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. There was a certain amount of disputation, and meanwhile she went on at school.
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