There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. Then she went in and up-stairs, hesitated on the landing, and finally, a little breathless and with an air of great dignity, opened the door and walked into Ann Veronica’s room. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. “Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. 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.
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