” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. . . Kneebone he's not here. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting.
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