” The conversation hung for a moment. It just made me mad to the boiling point. White,” the lady in black satin remarked. 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. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. Poor little one. ” “You have no right at all,” she answered. Then a surge of rage welled up.
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