“And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. ” Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of womanhood. ‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. Have you ever voted, Mr.
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