“How’s the star?” John’s father asked. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you. You couldn’t help it. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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