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The Night-Cellar XVIII. The Idle Apprentice II. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s. They seed beyond all reason. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. He may not know you’re in England, but if he has the smallest knowledge of your character, he must surely be expecting you. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. A species of vertigo seized him.
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