“And then?” said Ann Veronica. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. ” “Perhaps not,” she answered. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. If individuality means anything it means breaking bounds— adventure. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive.
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