” She said bitterly. “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote. But as the students sat about Miss Garvice’s tea-pot and drank tea or smoked cigarettes, the talk got away from Capes. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. Lucy ate without passion. And then you can go home and think things over before we talk again. Never any doubt of it. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing.
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