Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. ” Ann Veronica regarded her sister with a new respect, but the traditions of family life are strong. ” Mr.
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