‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. 235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. The aunt laughed.
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