She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. ’ The listening soldiers began to snigger behind their hands. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. 17 up-train. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. Her hormones were raging stupidly. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker.
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