It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. For I still love her mother. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. “For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly. But over against the world Miss Miniver assembled a small but energetic minority, the Children of Light—people she described as “being in the van,” or “altogether in the van,” about whom Ann Veronica’s mind was disposed to be more sceptical. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited.
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