“To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. The gate was opened; the coffin brought into the churchyard; and Jack, whose eyes were filled with tears, saw Mr. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. She took hand cannon and began to arm it. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. The youth with his hair like Russell cleared his throat and said rather irrelevantly that he knew a man who knew Thomas Bayard Simmons, who had rioted in the Strangers’ Gallery, and then Capes, finding them all distinctly pro-Ann Veronica, if not profeminist, ventured to be perverse, and started a vein of speculation upon the Scotchman’s idea—that there were still hopes of women evolving into something higher. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him. Section 3. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. “And think of the ordinary wives and mothers, with their anxiety, their limitations, their swarms of children!” Mr.
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