‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. ” Miss Miniver followed with an expression of perplexity, her mouth shaped to futile expositions. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. ‘I am not in the least in a rage. Her sister Alice seemed to have developed a religious sense away there in Yorkshire, and made appeals that had no meaning for Ann Veronica’s mind. Politely Ah Cum stooped and recovered the photograph. He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. After all, they’re history in the making.
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