Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. “I didn’t know you were so keen on this suffrage business. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “One moment, if you please!” She stopped short and looked round.
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