He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. 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. V. . ’ Gerald controlled a quivering lip. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame.
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