The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. "Women are always balling up and muddling clean cases. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. So here is your chance, Mademoiselle Charvill. Life seemed a very brave and glorious enterprise to Ann Veronica that day. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation.
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