” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. But I see now. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. “What are you doing?” He cried. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood.
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