Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. But over against the world Miss Miniver assembled a small but energetic minority, the Children of Light—people she described as “being in the van,” or “altogether in the van,” about whom Ann Veronica’s mind was disposed to be more sceptical. She shut the door behind her. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger.
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