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. What his head conceived his hand executed. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen.
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