CHAPTER XVI. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. ’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. ’ ‘Pah!’ ‘Precisely. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. . . Hill,” she said graciously. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile.
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