“Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. ” She scoffed. ’ Her conversation was wonderful, Gerald decided. But this is not sufficient. Anna, you shall not go. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. The future was not so black. “Let me think,” said Ann Veronica.
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