She must get to the vestry. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. And now she had sent Jack away. After all, it was really rather funny. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. Very dark, like yours, ma’am. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked.
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