All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes. This isn't your island, child; it's the great world. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. I'm a poor nurse. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed.
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