All she needed to do was to have a body. She took up a book and threw it down again. 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. The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber, near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death—a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. Wood, disdainfully. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. Old Lancashire families both. He stood still, almost breathless. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. “Okay, I guess.
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