” Part 11 They sat for a time without speaking a word, in an enormous shining globe of mutual satisfaction. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. Tight. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order.
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