Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, if you can't see your way…. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. ” Anna was thoughtful. "At a thought. But it means no end of a row. She used to play violin, you know. ” She looked at him with fluttering eyelids—sweetly grateful. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. It was eleven o'clock. The movement was then in its earlier militant phases, and one of the women only, Miss Garvice, opposed it, though Ann Veronica was disposed to be lukewarm. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them.
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