As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. I have had my day; and there were women in it. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room.
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