Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. “Get out of the car. You will not have to wait long for the information. Here a little delay occurred. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. Stir a foot, and I strike. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination.
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