“The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica.
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