“What else can happen?” asked Miss Miniver, with a little weak gesture at the glow. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting.
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