” Even in the glamour of Miss Brett’s assurance it seemed to Ann Veronica that this was, after all, no more than the gospel of Miss Miniver with a new set of resonances. "It's Mrs. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. ” She breathed relief. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. '" "What is that?" she asked. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment.
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