You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. The very facts that Miss Miniver never stated an argument clearly, that she was never embarrassed by a sense of self-contradiction, and had little more respect for consistency of statement than a washerwoman has for wisps of vapor, which made Ann Veronica critical and hostile at their first encounter in Morningside Park, became at last with constant association the secret of Miss Miniver’s growing influence. “Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. His name was Peter.
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