" "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred. ‘Very well, arrest me. Then she reverted to the trousers. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not. ” They hesitated. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
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