It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy city, and become degenerates. Don't feel fussed upon my account.
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