"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. Were you born here, madame?’ ‘Mais non. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. “Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by. I must take you to the Suffrage people, and the Tolstoyans, and the Fabians.
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