“That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. And—the idea of committees, of hustings, of agenda-papers!” “I don’t see why the responsibility of beauty should all be shifted on to the women,” said Ann Veronica, suddenly remembering a part of Miss Miniver’s discourse. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. No, don’t let me call myself that.
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