" "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames.
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