” “But do you really think men’s minds are altered by the food they eat?” “I know it,” said Miss Miniver. " "Mr. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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