h to fear from solitude; there were things to look at,
to touch, to smell. Now solitude no longer lurked round corners; at
times a gust of wind carried its icy breath into her bones.

She was suffering, too, a little. She felt heavy in the legs, and a vein
in her left calf hurt a little in the evening if she had walked or stood
much. Soon, though it did not increase, the pain became her daily
companion, for even when absent it haunted her. She would await a twinge
for a whole day, ready and fearful, bracing herself up against a shock
which often found her unprepared. At all times too the obsession seemed
to follow her now. Perhaps she was walking through Regent's Park,
buoyant and feeling capable of lifting a mountain, but the thought would
rush upon her, perhaps it was going to hurt. She would lie awake too,
oblivious of the heavy breathing by her side, rested, all her senses
asleep, and then though she felt no pain the fear of it would come upon
her and she would wrestle with the thought that the blow was about to
fall.

Sometimes she would go out into the streets, seeking variety even in a
wrangle between her Pekingese and some other dog. This meant that she
must separate them, apologise to the owner, exchange perhaps a few
words. Once she achieved a conversation with an old lady, a kindly soul,
the mistress of a poodle. They walked together along the Canal, and the
futile conversation fell like balm on Victoria's ears. The freshness of
a voice ignorant of double meanings was soft as dew. They were to meet
again, but the old lady was a near neighbour and she must have heard
something of Victoria's reputation, for when they met again opposite
Lord's, the old lady crossed over and the poodle followed her haughtily,
leaving Snoo and Poo disconsolate and wondering on the edge of the
pavement.

One morning Augusta came into the boudoir about twelve, carrying a
visiting card on a little tray.

'Miss Emma Welkin,' read Victoria. 'League of the Rights of Women. What
does she want, Augusta?'

'She says she wants to see Mrs Ferris, Mum.'

'League of the Rights of Women? Why, she must be a suffragist.'

'Yes, Mum. She wear a straw hat, Mum,' explained Augusta with a slight
sniff.

'And a tweed coat and skirt, I suppose,' said Victoria smiling.

'Oh, yes, Mum. Shall I say go away?'

'M'm. No, tell her to come in.'

While Augusta was away Victoria settled herself in the cushions. Perhaps
it might be interesting. The