“She must have character. This time you cannot. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. What isn’t a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and go!” “Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. Marvel, who proceeded to the cart, and took his seat upon the coffin. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff.
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