“Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. We remember it. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. It had been a trying day. At once. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. " "You'll never live to see that day," cried Blueskin, fixing a menacing look upon him. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears.
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