And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. " "I have a question to propose to you," said Trenchard, "relating to—" and he hesitated. If Ann Veronica could have put words to that song they would have been, “Hot-blooded marriage or none!” but she was far too indistinct in this matter to frame any words at all. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. He smiled inwardly. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. “One hardly knows—all the time. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified.
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