” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. By George, I forgot! McClintock said there was a typewriter in the office and that I could have it. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. And grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within.
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