‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. ” They entered the place, a pleasant little café of the sort to be met with in the outlying parts of Paris. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. All at once she became aware of sounds outside. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts.
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