I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. “Call me Annabel. 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.
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