She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. There was no one else in the doorway. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. She could not help but swoon a little. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. “Yes. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing.
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