The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. ” Mike blurted, his voice swallowed by the throb of loud music. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. You foolish girl!” Ann Veronica took that in silence. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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