She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. “There, there, now. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. Roddy muffed two.
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