Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. While he was thus employed a farming man came into the barn. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. “I am going to break a covenant,” he cried. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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