She shook her head. Might we ask you if you have ever seen him, if you knew him at all before this evening?” She stood up suddenly, and turning her back to them, looked steadily out of the window. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Miss Garvice assumed a quality of neutrality, professed herself almost won over by Ann Veronica’s example, and the Scotchman decided that if women had a distinctive sphere it was, at any rate, an enlarging sphere, and no one who believed in the doctrine of evolution could logically deny the vote to women “ultimately,” however much they might be disposed to doubt the advisability of its immediate concession. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. I shall not let you go till I am quite sure.
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