“Miserable bounder,” he murmured. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. 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. "It's a fine idea, my child, but you mustn't do it. But don’t think your heroic milice will save you. When anybody is natural, these days, we dub them queer. " "Let them attempt it, if they dare!" cried Mrs.
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