He—” “Here they are!” said Ann Veronica as the bell sounded. ‘It is pretty. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. Daughters were not like sons. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. " "Loves!" echoed Winifred, slightly colouring. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good.
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