I am a man—of a sort of experience. Her face expressed nothing. He laughed lightly. “Why?” he asked, suavely. Your name. Ann Veronica was in their very forefront. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. There were two school-mistresses, one of whom—Miss Klegg—might have been a first cousin to Miss Miniver, she had so many Miniver traits; there was a preoccupied girl whose name Ann Veronica never learned, but who worked remarkably well; and Miss Garvice, who began by attracting her very greatly— she moved so beautifully—and ended by giving her the impression that moving beautifully was the beginning and end of her being. “No thanks, Cathy. Good-bye. It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself.
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