" "As you please, Sir," replied the tapstress, coolly. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. That’s one thing clear.
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