“I was trying to design a personal hovercraft. Our ideal had fallen. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. He brought home a few waverers to talk to them where they had no chance of getting away. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 21-09-2024 13:11:27