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. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. “You see, it comes after all,” she continued, “from certain original convictions which have become my religion. “Is that all you have to say?” Michelle challenged her. I thought you understood. For a space he rode the whirligig.
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