And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. Ann Veronica found her attention wandering a little as he told her that he was not ashamed to feel almost slavish in the presence of really beautiful people, and then they came to the Michaelmas daisies. Miss Garvice assumed a quality of neutrality, professed herself almost won over by Ann Veronica’s example, and the Scotchman decided that if women had a distinctive sphere it was, at any rate, an enlarging sphere, and no one who believed in the doctrine of evolution could logically deny the vote to women “ultimately,” however much they might be disposed to doubt the advisability of its immediate concession. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica to the darkness; “I’ll fight it. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears.
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