She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. “I don’t think she will,” she said. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Ramage—about the forty pounds. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. ” She replied. By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John’s ideas of pin money are not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say.
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