He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish.
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