A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. I don’t want any laws or freedoms to protect me from a man like Mr. He—” “Here they are!” said Ann Veronica as the bell sounded. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. “Have you much ability?” asked Ann Veronica. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own.
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