One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth.
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