“We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. ’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. ” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf.
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