Chapter XVI
THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN
Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. She ought to
have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her
knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools
of blood-red flame. And Miss Miniver fell discussing
whether Goopes or Bernard Shaw or Tolstoy or Doctor Tumpany or Wilkins the
author had the more powerful and perfect mind in existence at the present time. "I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this
rascal, when I find him here—the last place, I own, where I should have
expected to find him. “I do
not even know who you are. “I wonder if
I’ve been properly brought up. “Please let me drive you home. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of
loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in
evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “Please stay,” she said briefly. And in those days, too, he
used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood
on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. “The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the
common people, all pressing forward, all roused. . ” Lucy said.
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