‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true.
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