What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. “Who can tell?” she said. Miss Garvice assumed a quality of neutrality, professed herself almost won over by Ann Veronica’s example, and the Scotchman decided that if women had a distinctive sphere it was, at any rate, an enlarging sphere, and no one who believed in the doctrine of evolution could logically deny the vote to women “ultimately,” however much they might be disposed to doubt the advisability of its immediate concession.
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