” “I suppose we ARE more free than we were?” said Ann Veronica, keeping the question general. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own.
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