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She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather.
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