She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. Her linen gown was soft against the heavy skins. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. “Of course!” he said. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it. org/donate Section 5.
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