“He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. She replied, “I don’t care to draw attention to myself, Michelle.
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