You come to England, and hide in a secret convent in London. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. The little old lady struck like a projectile upon the resounding chest of the foremost of these, and then Ann Veronica had got past and was ascending the steps. ‘I should never have told you. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. ” He adjusted his glasses on his nose. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. CHAPTER I.
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