I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. Why did you let him have it?" "Let him have it? I can't stand at the elbow of any of the guests and regulate his or her actions. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe.
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