Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly.
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