But the people among whom she was now thrown through the social exertions of Miss Miniver and the Widgetts—for Teddy and Hetty came up from Morningside Park and took her to an eighteen-penny dinner in Soho and introduced her to some art students, who were also Socialists, and so opened the way to an evening of meandering talk in a studio—carried with them like an atmosphere this implication, not only that the world was in some stupid and even obvious way WRONG, with which indeed she was quite prepared to agree, but that it needed only a few pioneers to behave as such and be thoroughly and indiscriminately “advanced,” for the new order to achieve itself. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. She tried to think what she should do in this eventuality or that. I shall give you my life, every moment and thought of my life. She went about the familiar home with a clearer and clearer sense of inevitable conclusions. The man’s passion was infectious. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief.
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