Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Miss Miniver said that if once she lost her faith in Tolstoy’s sincerity, nothing she felt would really matter much any more, and she appealed to Ann Veronica whether she did not feel the same; and Mr. He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her. “It’s about forty pounds.
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