She was still more stirred by the idea of the equal citizenship of men and women, by the realization that a big and growing organization of women were giving form and a generalized expression to just that personal pride, that aspiration for personal freedom and respect which had brought her to London; but when she heard Miss Miniver discoursing on the next step in the suffrage campaign, or read of women badgering Cabinet Ministers, padlocked to railings, or getting up in a public meeting to pipe out a demand for votes and be carried out kicking and screaming, her soul revolted. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. Mr. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. Am I going to die?” “I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment.
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