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At length, she suddenly started to her feet; and before Winifred could prevent her, staggered up to Thames. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. She pitted aspirants against each other in any way imaginable, with tests of science, math, and sometimes will alone. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. They agreed that they must marry at once, this morning, before the doctor could suspect what was toward. “The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel,” she said. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat.
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