She had never let off a pistol in her life. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. You disgust me.
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