How she had fought her eagerness in the beginning, lest it reveal her ignorance of the marvels of mankind! The terror and ecstasy of that night in Singapore— the first city she had ever seen! There was still the impression that something akin to a miracle had piloted her successfully from one ordeal to another. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. Mary Lucia was branded “the earliest riser and the best at keeping up with her chores” by the formidable Sisters at the orphanage. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. No— no, it must never be. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. Life seemed a very brave and glorious enterprise to Ann Veronica that day.
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