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What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. Then they had released her arms and were trying to push her away. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. He made this simple classification of a large and various sex to the exclusion of all intermediate kinds; he held that the two classes had to be kept apart even in thought and remote from one another. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Well, it had to happen somewhen. More importantly, she had her wits.
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