She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. “It sounds too ridiculous. ’ Gerald started. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. Still, one never could tell.
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