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I wanted the magic of love. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs.
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