Miss Miniver said that if once she lost her faith in Tolstoy’s sincerity, nothing she felt would really matter much any more, and she appealed to Ann Veronica whether she did not feel the same; and Mr. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. “LOOKS all right,” said Ann Veronica, regarding him with her head first on one side and then on the other, and trying to be agreeable. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue.
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