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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

Vivie's position--managing something. 

 

Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior 

of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. He appeared suddenly from 

the infinite in the neighborhood of the Burlington Arcade, crossing 

the pavement toward her and with his eyes upon her. He seemed to her 

indistinguishably about her father's age. He wore a silk hat a little 

tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; 

and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet 

distinction of his tie. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his 

small, brown eyes were bright. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing 

her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her 

suddenly over his shoulder. 

 

"Whither away?" he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. 

Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, 

through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way 

with a quickened step. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like 

surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. 

 

Queer old gentleman! 

 

The art of ignoring is one of the accomplishments of every well-bred 

girl, so carefully instilled that at last she can even ignore her own 

thoughts and her own knowledge. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask 

herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to 

her, and know--know in general terms, at least--what that accosting 

signified. About her, as she had gone day by day to and from the 

Tredgold College, she had seen and not seen many an incidental aspect 

of those sides of life about which girls are expected to know nothing, 

aspects that were extraordinarily relevant to her own position and 

outlook on the world, and yet by convention ineffably remote. For all 

that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never 

yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. She had viewed them 

askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world 

about them. 

 

She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but 

disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene 

contentment. 

 

That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. 

 

As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman 

approaching her from the opposite direction--a tall woman who at the 

first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. She came along with 


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