” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. ’ Lucilla gaped. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. ’ Then Hilary became serious again. Earles watched her anxiously. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed.
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