The very facts that Miss Miniver never stated an argument clearly, that she was never embarrassed by a sense of self-contradiction, and had little more respect for consistency of statement than a washerwoman has for wisps of vapor, which made Ann Veronica critical and hostile at their first encounter in Morningside Park, became at last with constant association the secret of Miss Miniver’s growing influence. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. She floundered deep. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically.
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