“What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. She held out both her hands. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. There are way-stations—even terminals. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both.
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