“Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research.
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