" He drew down the lamp and blew it out, and followed her into the night, more lovely than he had ever imagined night to be. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. Miss Garvice assumed a quality of neutrality, professed herself almost won over by Ann Veronica’s example, and the Scotchman decided that if women had a distinctive sphere it was, at any rate, an enlarging sphere, and no one who believed in the doctrine of evolution could logically deny the vote to women “ultimately,” however much they might be disposed to doubt the advisability of its immediate concession. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. ’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade.
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