The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. What are you going to tell me?" "Nothing. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated.
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