She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. Then she went in and up-stairs, hesitated on the landing, and finally, a little breathless and with an air of great dignity, opened the door and walked into Ann Veronica’s room. “Time for my Patience,” she said. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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