” When the next holidays came Ann Veronica’s mother was ill, and Gwen was in the sick-room when Ann Veronica returned home. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. and Mrs. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. “You cannot! Oh, you cannot. As sure as you're sitting there, Mr.
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