"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. “What do you think of that?” he asked. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. “That’s exhilarating,” said Ann Veronica. The thing rankled in her mind night and day.
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