“The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the common people, all pressing forward, all roused. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way.
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