Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. I do not think that he has quite got over his surprise at finding you established here. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice.
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