"They imagine their work is done. If only you knew what this means to me!" "We do, lad," replied McClintock, gravely. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness. ‘I did not send you a card because in the normal way of things you rarely attend such affairs. The youth with his hair like Russell cleared his throat and said rather irrelevantly that he knew a man who knew Thomas Bayard Simmons, who had rioted in the Strangers’ Gallery, and then Capes, finding them all distinctly pro-Ann Veronica, if not profeminist, ventured to be perverse, and started a vein of speculation upon the Scotchman’s idea—that there were still hopes of women evolving into something higher.
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