she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind.
"No Christmas dinner," she said, "or anything nice! One doesn't even know what you are doing."
"I'm going on working for my degree."
"Why couldn't you do that at home?"
"I'm working at the Imperial College. You see, aunt, it's the only possible way for me to get a good degree in my subjects, and father won't hear of it. There'd only be endless rows if I was at home. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?"
"I do wish this wasn't going on," said Miss Stanley, after a pause. "I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement."
Ann Veronica responded with conviction: "I wish so, too."
"Can't we arrange something? Can't we make a sort of treaty?"
"He wouldn't keep it. He would get very cross one evening and no one would dare to remind him of it."
"How can you say such things?"
"But he would!"
"Still, it isn't your place to say so."
"It prevents a treaty."
"Couldn't I make a treaty?"
Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. She had tasted
