His aunt, here at McClintock's? It was unbelievable. She made herself a private declaration of liberty. 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. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. Your father…. All he will say is that she said so—as if anyone could believe a word the girl said. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. He should never sufficiently be able to regret the return which they had made to her. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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