“That thing’s going on,” she told herself. 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. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. Then he rallied, smiling a little. The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. ‘I thank you.
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