Not to go to her is wickeder than if I had run away with my friend's wife. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. I am come to serve you. You did it on your own?” Ann Veronica smiled. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. 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.
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