But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. ” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut.
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