In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. ” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. I admired your chivalry. No man knew whence she had come nor why.
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