She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. His tone was kind and sympathetic. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Stanley,’ I said. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history.
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