1. Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. But she had spent nearly half of it, and had no conception of how such a sum could be made good again. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. He was snoring stupidly. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. "That's odd. For the sort of love-making you think about.
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