She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. But a biddable girl. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. I went with him to what I supposed to be the British Embassy, and went through a ceremony which I understood to be the usual form of the marriage one used there. She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own.
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