And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. It’s 180 endearing. She went into shock. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. They didn’t talk about it much, but Mike had been through some eerily similar foster homes in Florida, the where he was born. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. “Certainly.
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