Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. 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. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. Winny, my love, come with me. “Lord!” she said. “Love should be enough, John, but it never is. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner.
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