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ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-1-2
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-3-4
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-5-6
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-7
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-1-2
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-3
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-1-2
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-3-4-5
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-6-7
THE CRISIS-1-2-3-4
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-1-2-3
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-4-5-6
EXPOSTULATIONS-1-2-3-4
EXPOSTULATIONS-5-6
IDEALS AND A REALITY-1-2
IDEALS AND A REALITY-3-4
IDEALS AND A REALITY-5-6-7
BIOLOGY-1-2
BIOLOGY-3-4-5-6
BIOLOGY-7-8-9
DISCORDS-1
DISCORDS-2-3-4
DISCORDS-5-6-8-9
THE SUFFRAGETTES-1-2-3
THE SUFFRAGETTES-4-5
THOUGHTS IN PRISON-1-2-3-4-5-6
ANN VERONICA PUTS THINGS IN ORDER-1-2-3-4-5-6-7
THE SAPPHIRE RING-1-2-3-4
THE SAPPHIRE RING-5-6
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-1-2-3
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-4-5-6
THE LAST DAYS AT HOME-1-2-3
IN THE MOUNTAINS-1-2-3-4
IN THE MOUNTAINS-5-6-7-8-9-10-11
IN PERSPECTIVE-1-2-3

next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any 

refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. She felt 

smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. "Let 

me see," she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the 

heart, "I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is 

cheaper.... But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night 

and look round.... 

 

"It's bound to be all right," she said. 

 

But her heart kept on sinking. What hotel should she go to? If she told 

a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do--or say? He 

might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet 

sort of thing she required. Finally she decided that even for an hotel 

she must look round, and that meanwhile she would "book" her luggage at 

Waterloo. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it 

was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to 

have directed him to go to the cloak-room. But that was soon put right, 

and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an 

exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense 

of vast unexampled release. 

 

She inhaled a deep breath of air--London air. 

 

 

 

 

Part 3 

 

 

She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly 

perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo 

Bridge at a leisurely pace. It was high afternoon, there was no great 

throng of foot-passengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement 

rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young 

and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet 

self-possession of her face. She was dressed as English girls do dress 

for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse 

confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark 

hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears.... 

 

It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, 

and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and 

culminating keenness to the day. The river, the big buildings on the 

north bank, Westminster, and St. Paul's, were rich and wonderful with 

the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most 

penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world. The very carts 

and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon 


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