She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Yet there was nothing for her to do. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. You are always doing something for nothing, and that is why I love you. But she made no answer.
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