You got to take the world as it is, and the only possible trade for a girl that isn’t sweated is to get hold of a man and make him do it for her. ” Miss Miniver’s manner became impressive. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Critically, she stared at her own features.
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