She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. ‘But you do not understand, mon ami. Monroe would lock the whole group of us in the basement, every day. “I’m being honest with you. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. So they fenced with smiles. “Thanks, Cathy.
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