“What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. ’ Gerald tutted. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. I want you to be my wife. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. But Miss Miniver was highly unsatisfactory.
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