"I guessed what was coming. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Miss Garvice assumed a quality of neutrality, professed herself almost won over by Ann Veronica’s example, and the Scotchman decided that if women had a distinctive sphere it was, at any rate, an enlarging sphere, and no one who believed in the doctrine of evolution could logically deny the vote to women “ultimately,” however much they might be disposed to doubt the advisability of its immediate concession. It was true. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself.
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