Ann Veronica snatched at the opportunity, and spent most of the intervening time in the Assyrian Court of the British Museum, reading and thinking over a little book upon the feminist movement the tired woman had made her buy. “I’ve thought about it. The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. I know my son's voice too well. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. 1. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica.
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