Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. “This is not a matter altogether for levity, Anna,” she said. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick.
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