clearly recall who
Nettie Miniver might be.

There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out
demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its
own. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once
into touch with Ann Veronica. "You're Glorious!" said Miss Miniver in
tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann
Veronica's face. "Glorious! You're so calm, dear, and so resolute, so
serene!

"It's girls like you who will show them what We are," said Miss Miniver;
"girls whose spirits have not been broken!"

Ann Veronica sunned herself a little in this warmth.

"I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear," said Miss Miniver. "I am
getting to watch all women. I thought then perhaps you didn't care, that
you were like so many of them. NOW it's just as though you had grown up
suddenly."

She stopped, and then suggested: "I wonder--I should love--if it was
anything _I_ said."

She did not wait for Ann Veronica's reply. She seemed to assume that it
must certainly be something she had said. "They all catch on," she said.
"It spreads like wildfire. This is such a grand time! Such a glorious
time! There never was such a time as this! Everything seems so close to
fruition, so coming on and leading on! The Insurrection of Women! They
spring up everywhere. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to
another."

She chilled Ann Veronica a little by that last phrase, and yet the
magnetism of her fellowship and enthusiasm was very strong; and it was
pleasant to be made out a heroine after so much expostulation and so
many secret doubts.

But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. She sat, crouched
together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that
supported the pig's skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann
Veronica's face, and let herself go. "Let us put the lamp out," she
said; "the flames are ever so much better for talking," and Ann Veronica
agreed. "You are coming right out into life--facing it all."

Ann Veronica sat with her chin on her hand, red-lit and saying little,
and Miss Miniver discoursed. As she talked, the drift and significance
of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica's
apprehension. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull
world--a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world,
that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. In remote times and
coun