But over against the world Miss Miniver assembled a small but energetic minority, the Children of Light—people she described as “being in the van,” or “altogether in the van,” about whom Ann Veronica’s mind was disposed to be more sceptical. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. I spoke a thought aloud. Imbecile.
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