Ann Veronica listened thoughtfully, with her eyes on the turf, and now and then she asked a question or looked up to discuss a point. And now her father said she must not go. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. ‘My wife would say she is English a little. It’s all nonsense. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased.
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