After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. You have to come over to my house. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir.
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