"You say you want a vote," said Mr. Manning, abruptly.

"I think I ought to have one."

"Well, I have two," said Mr. Manning--"one in Oxford University and one
in Kensington." He caught up and went on with a sort of clumsiness: "Let
me present you with them and be your voter."

There followed an instant's pause, and then Ann Veronica had decided to
misunderstand.

"I want a vote for myself," she said. "I don't see why I should take it
second-hand. Though it's very kind of you. And rather unscrupulous. Have
you ever voted, Mr. Manning? I suppose there's a sort of place like a
ticket-office. And a ballot-box--" Her face assumed an expression of
intellectual conflict. "What is a ballot-box like, exactly?" she asked,
as though it was very important to her.

Mr. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his
mustache. "A ballot-box, you know," he said, "is very largely just a
box." He made quite a long pause, and went on, with a sigh: "You have a
voting paper given you--"

They emerged into the publicity of the lawn.

"Yes," said Ann Veronica, "yes," to his explanation, and saw across
the lawn Lady Palsworthy talking to her aunt, and both of them staring
frankly across at her and Mr. Manning as they talked.