“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. It was from Brendon. She held out both her hands. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty.
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