CHAPTER XIII. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. "Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. She never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. —You've your answer, Blueskin," he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door; "it's useless to urge the matter further. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. Ann Veronica snatched at the opportunity, and spent most of the intervening time in the Assyrian Court of the British Museum, reading and thinking over a little book upon the feminist movement the tired woman had made her buy.
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