cting
itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. It happened
that at the extremest point of Ann Veronica's social circle from the
Widgetts was the family of the Morningside Park horse-dealer, a company
of extremely dressy and hilarious young women, with one equestrian
brother addicted to fancy waistcoats, cigars, and facial spots. These
girls wore hats at remarkable angles and bows to startle and kill; they
liked to be right on the spot every time and up to everything that
was it from the very beginning and they rendered their conception of
Socialists and all reformers by the words "positively frightening"
and "weird." Well, it was beyond dispute that these words did convey
a certain quality of the Movements in general amid which Miss Miniver
disported herself. They WERE weird. And yet for all that--

It got into Ann Veronica's nights at last and kept her awake, the
perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced
thinker. The general propositions of Socialism, for example, struck her
as admirable, but she certainly did not extend her admiration to any
of its exponents. She was still more stirred by the idea of the equal
citizenship of men and women, by the realization that a big and growing
organization of women were giving form and a generalized expression
to just that personal pride, that aspiration for personal freedom and
respect which had brought her to London; but when she heard Miss Miniver
discoursing on the next step in the suffrage campaign, or read of women
badgering Cabinet Ministers, padlocked to railings, or getting up in a
public meeting to pipe out a demand for votes and be carried out kicking
and screaming, her soul revolted. She could not part with dignity.
Something as yet unformulated within her kept her estranged from all
these practical aspects of her beliefs.

"Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted," it said; "and
this is not your appropriate purpose."

It was as if she faced a darkness in which was something very beautiful
and wonderful as yet unimagined. The little pucker in her brows became
more perceptible.

Part 5

In the beginning of December Ann Veronica began to speculate privately
upon the procedure of pawning. She had decided that she would begin
with her pearl necklace. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and
evening--it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left
her soundest pair of boots in the boothole