” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. Have you got someone in mind for me?" "Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. 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.
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