Now, while Ann Veronica was taking these soundings in the industrial sea, and measuring herself against the world as it is, she was also making extensive explorations among the ideas and attitudes of a number of human beings who seemed to be largely concerned with the world as it ought to be.  She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life.

Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts.  She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm.  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.

There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own.  Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica.  “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face.  “Glorious!  You’re so calm, dear, and so resolute, so serene!

“It’s girls like you who will show them what We are,” said Miss Miniver; “girls whose spirits have not been broken!”

Ann Veronica sunned herself a little in this warmth.

“I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver.  “I am getting to watch all women.  I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them.  Now it’s just as though you had grown up suddenly.”

She stopped, and then suggested:  “I wonder—­I should love—­if it was anything I said.”

She did not wait for Ann Veronica’s reply.  She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said.  “They all catch on,” she said.  “It spreads like wildfire.  This is such a grand time!  Such a glorious time!  There never was such a time as this!  Everything seems so close to fruition, so coming on and leading on!  The Insurrection of Women!  They spring up everywhere.  Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another.”

She chilled Ann Veronica a little by that last phrase, and yet the magnetism of her fellowship and enthusiasm was very strong; and it was pleasant to be made out a heroine after so much expostulation and so many secret doubts.

But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk.  She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go.  “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed.  “You are coming right out into life—­facing it all.”