She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. . Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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