And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. She crushed the letter in her hand. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. Over these hung levels, bevels, squares, and other instruments of measurement. I was grateful. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. I felt his heart.
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