Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. Anna sent her away. A creeping numbness invaded her. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances.
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