"What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. "That's scarcely a fair question, Mr. 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. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. It contains news of the serious illness of a near relation at Paris. "He stands before you," rejoined her son. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. "Give me the link," cried Jonathan.
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