” And thus it was that as Ann Veronica neared the gates of home, she said to herself: “I’ll have it out with him somehow. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. “I do mean that,” she declared. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents.
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