And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. He watched her orgasm come to life and he could hold back no longer. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. 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. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me.
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