He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension.
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