But that was all over. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. Instead, her husband was probably wise. He drew her away from this thought. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up.
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