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“Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. CHAPTER XII.
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