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. Your disobedience be upon your own head. “But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. ‘She won’t like it,’ prophesied the captain gloomily. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. "She wouldn't let me go. I don't care how lonesome it is. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. She elected to go to prison. ’ ‘That is not your affair. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction.
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