They rose as she approached. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. . CHAPTER III. What was their surprise to find it vacant, and the prisoner gone! Jonathan, could scarcely believe his eyes. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. Contrasted with the confused movement and presences of a Fabian meeting, or the inexplicable enthusiasm behind the suffrage demand, with the speeches that were partly egotistical displays, partly artful manoeuvres, and partly incoherent cries for unsoundly formulated ends, compared with the comings and goings of audiences and supporters that were like the eddy-driven drift of paper in the street, this long, quiet, methodical chamber shone like a star seen through clouds. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently.
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