Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. Like appendicitis. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. I wish they would just get it over with.
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