“Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. No! That was impossible. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. In any case, he is liable to discover it at any time. 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. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer. Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. She began to feel odd sensations while peering busily at his shoulder and profile.
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