“Every one raves about her,” Lady Angela continued. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. This amazing world she had set forth to discover! Yesterday at this time she had had no thought in her head about Canton. I was not even sure whether it was loaded. She learned that they had granted her the attributes of an earth elemental goddess, and they considered her as necessary as the wolf, as if she had a role to play in the natural order. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head.
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