‘But with more courage in her little finger than in many another female’s entire body. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. “Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. “In Paris. I know something about men.
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