She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. He just seemed to have no interest, consumed with the hunt or his newfound friend, Sebastianus, who supposedly would enable him to expand his political ties to Rome. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging.
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