This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. ‘He wanted me also to run away with him, and I wish very much that I had done so. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. I am not going to be a chorus girl, or even a super. She was naturally weaker, she would tire quicker, and she need not concern herself with the peculiar obligations of honour obtaining amongst gentlemen. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. This started a thought moving.
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