Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. He would refuse to listen and absolve her unshriven. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. ‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably.
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