She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. ” He frowned heavily. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. . There is no other way.
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