She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. "Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. ” “But I say, Vee,” said Constance, “if you come and you are forbidden to come there’ll be the deuce of a row.
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