“Well——” She stopped short. He smiled tenderly. Wait, though. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. You are the High Priestess of Life. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. .
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