Ann Veronica snatched at the opportunity, and spent most of the intervening time in the Assyrian Court of the British Museum, reading and thinking over a little book upon the feminist movement the tired woman had made her buy. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. " "Why, surely you don't think your guests would steal them," observed Rachel, archly.
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