’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. It’s the feinting tricks you have to watch for. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. But over against the world Miss Miniver assembled a small but energetic minority, the Children of Light—people she described as “being in the van,” or “altogether in the van,” about whom Ann Veronica’s mind was disposed to be more sceptical. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance.
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