But there was a face pressed to the glass. 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. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. "I wonder," said Ruth. Mr. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. “Well?” she said. I heard only after it was all over. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. “Very funny.
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