She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. 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. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Bold women certainly existed in the Middle Ages--Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales is evidence of this--but meek women were probably the norm, good Christian family ladies who wanted nothing more than to serve God and have children. But he didn’t marry her. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. ’ He received a glare from his captive. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth.
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