The evenings were dulcet and soft. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. Miss Garvice assumed a quality of neutrality, professed herself almost won over by Ann Veronica’s example, and the Scotchman decided that if women had a distinctive sphere it was, at any rate, an enlarging sphere, and no one who believed in the doctrine of evolution could logically deny the vote to women “ultimately,” however much they might be disposed to doubt the advisability of its immediate concession. I’ve been waiting all my life to get out of this town. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. He suspected a trap.
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