Anna rose a few minutes before the general company. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. He was still thickly clad in jeans. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. "There were some marks near the window; but whether recently made or not could not be ascertained," replied Winifred. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands.
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