Very central in Miss Miniver’s universe were the Goopes. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. “No!” she exclaimed. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. "You cannot understand me, Madam; and it is well you cannot. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop.
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