She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. ” “Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. He stabbed into her with brute force.
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