Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. And Leonardo told me never to trust any man. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. I was resolved to see you. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis.
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