And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant. It was difficult to get right. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. So is the chapel of All Souls at Oxford, and the great hall at Blenheim, and I don't know how many halls and chapels besides.
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