The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. She kept her eyes closed. “It’s a new phase in the life history,” he remarked. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy.
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