‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. “We are the species,” said Miss Miniver, “men are only incidents. “I can’t endure it,” she said. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. If we were set upon I could not defend you.
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