And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said.
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