The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys.
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