” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. I don’t care if you’re not a virgin, that’s not how I really am. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. I hate what I am. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse. She did her best to do this. Sheppard's good health, and success to him!" Baptist's toast was received with loud applause, and, as he sat down amid the cheers of the company, and a universal clatter of mugs and glasses, the widow's view was no longer obstructed.
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