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Mrs. Berkley laughed her little amused laugh.

“It even leads you astray in the construction of a sentence apparently,” she said. “I never knew a young matron who did not think that her study of her husband had revealed depths no other woman had ever fathomed. But I assure you, Joan, men are far more alike than women are. I have no doubt that by and by Antony will be led by you, just as you think your father is led by me. But rest assured, my dear, I don’t lead your father by logic!”

Anne unwound herself and stretched her long, thin legs with a sigh.

“I shall never get married,” she said. “I shall not! And it cramps dreadfully to sit with your legs under you on such a hard seat. I see Miss Anne Dallas. She is going to the post office, I s’pose; she has a lot of letters and stuff. She’s going to mail them for Mr. Latham, most likely. She looks as nice! I think queer blue dresses are perfec’ly lovely. Kit Carrington has stopped her. He took off his hat most graceful. It’s the way they do in stories, old stories, when it was long ago, when they doff their hats. So did Kit Carrington. I never knew how it was till now, but that’s what he did: doffed it. Look, Mother. Like this.”