How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. “I do,” he answered. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. Her back arched slightly in response. I can't invent; the thing won't come. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations.
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