Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. There was absolute quiet. A phase of mental activity that men called courage: to summon at will this energy which barred the ingress of the long cold fingers of fear, which cleared the throat of stuffiness and kept the glance level and ever forward. She was now permitted freely to study the face.
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