” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. 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. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. Here I am. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. ” “Relaxation, perhaps. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself.
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