" "A time may come when you will be gratified, Mr. 8. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. “Come, daddy,” said Ann Veronica, following her husband and Miss Stanley; and in the fulness of her heart she gave a friendly squeeze to the parental arm. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. It grew clear to her that throughout all her wild raid for independence she had done nothing for anybody, and many people had done things for her. “But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected.
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