“I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. You care for me a little, I know.
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