The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. “Stay where you are for a moment,” she directed. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. “It isn’t objections exactly.
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