In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. We begin rehearsing on Monday at the ‘Garrick’. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you.
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