She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. ‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger. I think over all sorts of things. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her. A woman such as I am might help take care of Mr. Tonight Lucy doled out outré physiological theories of boys and their overactive hormones. But a man is a mixed creature. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one.
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