“Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. But over against the world Miss Miniver assembled a small but energetic minority, the Children of Light—people she described as “being in the van,” or “altogether in the van,” about whom Ann Veronica’s mind was disposed to be more sceptical. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. “Michelle, I don’t ever want to hear you mention the subject you mentioned at dinner again.
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