He saw, without any particular regret, that this year he would have to forego the junket; but there would be ample compensation in the study of these queer youngsters. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. But over against the world Miss Miniver assembled a small but energetic minority, the Children of Light—people she described as “being in the van,” or “altogether in the van,” about whom Ann Veronica’s mind was disposed to be more sceptical.
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