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“At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. I really must leave you now. But I may yet live to thwart them. She may be an infuriating little devil, but she is far from stupid. I merely mention these circumstances to show the accuracy of my information. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. I really cared for him a little, but I am absolutely determined not to marry for some time at any rate. It jars with all my ideas. Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook to deliver,—one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at Manchester, the other to Mr. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. The day had become suddenly overcast. There were two school-mistresses, one of whom—Miss Klegg—might have been a first cousin to Miss Miniver, she had so many Miniver traits; there was a preoccupied girl whose name Ann Veronica never learned, but who worked remarkably well; and Miss Garvice, who began by attracting her very greatly— she moved so beautifully—and ended by giving her the impression that moving beautifully was the beginning and end of her being.
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